“Blood Springs…Spring Blood”
A few years ago, a young man from Hope who worked with me told me his family had a sugar house and made their own Maple syrup. "Excellent! - Tell your parents I will write them a poem for a small jar of their maple syrup. In fact, I will write it in advance, right now, for them". I did not have any paper so I wrote this poem on a wooden board and handed it to him. On the following Monday, he brought in my maple syrup AND gave me back my original poem. I still have it, despite the desperate search for kindling that occurred this winter. I hope you do not mind me "re-purposing" this old poem.
Senior citizen
With snowy mane
Bleeds so you
Can dream again.
You stabbed him
Time and time anew.
Each time he bled
And stared at you.
There was no hatred
Nor judgment from him.
A hint of smile
Shivered ancient limbs.
You drank his blood
Each drop held dear.
Amber gold
From crystal tear.
You feel no shame
You will strike again
In one more year
When the sap runs clear.
Tom Crowley
4/09/2014
This version has changes from original
Written on a wooden plank - 4/7/09
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