A gnarly looking bush in the front yard has become a new favorite of mine. What once was unknown sticks, has now bloomed into forsythia.

Forsythia is memorable to me because my first introduction to it was in a poem. A shapely poem. I remember as a child reading Forsythia by Mary Ellen Solt, that was written in the shape of a growing forsythia. After years of looking through text books with print in the exact same format, always from left to right, it was actually shocking for me to see text wave upwards. That shapely poem immediately took root in me and now every spring will be a reminder to me to try something new and daring, to go against the standard text and spend a moment waving upwards.


One thought on “Forsythia.

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