By J.J. Tindall
FINGERPRINTS OF A DAYDREAM
I passed the ghosts
Of last year’s tulips
Turning back south
At the hospital power plant,
Walking an errand for supplies –
For survival –
Through the soft, fresh snow.
I came back across
My own footsteps
In the virgin layer
Like a diagram
For a modern dance.
Boot prints,
Like silhouettes
In pearl dust.
I noticed my line
Wasn’t entirely straight
And was mildly disturbed.
Apparently, I’d been
Daydreaming of pirouetting
Through tulips.
Boot prints become
Evidence, fingerprints
Of a daydream,
Fingerprints of a mind of winter,
A shield against the elements,
Hardened to the harshness,
Alive to the bliss.
Real winter is harsh
In the realm of smoke, stone
And steel. This one
Has been especially harsh,
Simple errands a danse macabre
Through a labyrinth of risk.
Each task is grim, each flight utilitarian,
No pedestal for pirouettes,
No promenade for peacocks.
One must concentrate
With all savage cunning
Just to fetch the mail.
Comes the thaw
And the tulips – like
The hands that plant them:
Elegant, sturdy
And resilient – ,
The first blooms of spring,
The transformation
From a dictatorship of white
To a democracy of color!
Each bloom a freed soul:
Oxblood, ultramarine, violet, lemon yellow,
Individuals reborn.
They’ll adorn
This power plant within
A matter of weeks
If I can just survive.
The bitter breeze taunted me,
Dared me not to slip,
Mocked me for my frivolous
Daydream of dancing
Through tulips swaying in the shade.
But it wasn’t frivolous at all.
It’s an elegant evolutionary
Adaptation for survival,
Like a tulip’s chalice blossom
Or a peacock’s fan-tail of eyes:
It’s a way
To survive.
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J.J. Tindall is the Beachwood’s poet-in-residence. He welcomes your comments. Chicagoetry is an exclusive Beachwood collection-in-progress.
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More Tindall:
* Chicagoetry: The Book
* Ready To Rock: The Music
* Kindled Tindall: The Novel
* The Viral Video: The Match Game Dance
Posted on March 26, 2014