Poem for the Day: September 7th, 2021

Instructions on Not Giving Up by Ada Limón

More than the fuchsia funnels breaking out 
of the crabapple tree, more than the neighbor’s 
almost obscene display of cherry limbs shoving 
their cotton candy-colored blossoms to the slate 
sky of Spring rains, it’s the greening of the trees
that really gets to me. When all the shock of 
     white 
and taffy, the world’s baubles and trinkets, leave 
the pavement strewn with the confetti of 
     aftermath,
the leaves come. Patient, plodding, a green skin 
growing over whatever winter did to us, a return 
to the strange idea of continuous living despite 
the mess of us, the hurt, the empty. Fine then,
I’ll take it, the tree seems to say, a new slick leaf
unfurling like a fist to an open palm, I’ll take it all. 

Bonus Graphic

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