Mud Season

[LSClanton]

Revision #1

A leaf is pinned to the stream bed
forced flat by Winter’s raw
and wrathful storms now fed
drop by drop into the thaw

Dripping, sticking, sweetening sap
Sweating from hearts of trees
They also bleed from their wounds racked,
exposed by frost and freeze

Change is muck and dirt and grit,
but soft and molded too
For novel needs it shifts and drifts
seeping, creeping toward the root.

I step onto the sun-warmed sod
from permafrosted shade.
I sink, a subject to the laws
of gravity and change.

My hand splays out- an open prayer
Strikingly unafraid
Beginning overdue repair
of a pocked and broken faith

Tongues probe between my fingers
holding my impression
Time pauses, breathes, and lingers,
then slowly takes possession

Sucking, squelching, we dehisce.
On cracked and drying knuckles
The breeze plants an itching kiss
I leave you with my mark and fossil.



______________________________________
Original:

A leaf is pinned to the stream bed
forced flat by Winter’s raw
and wrathful storms now weeping, fed
as drops into the thaw.

Change is mess and dirt and grit
but soft and molded too
For novel needs it shifts and drifts
Seeping, creeping toward the root.

Dripping, sticking, sweetening sap
Sweating from hearts of trees
They will also bleed
From wounds gathered from the frost and freeze

I step beneath the open sky
I sink, displacing gravity
Bearing all of which is mine-
Spring cleaning of a cavity.

I reach out in acknowledgement
To touch the seeping earth
The loss of life ferments
And allows for a new birth.

Tongues probe between my fingers
I hold a hand that lingers
As I make an impression
Holding possession

Of that which does not exist.
The breeze dries my knuckles
And there, cracks an itching kiss
I leave you with my mark and fossil.
With love,
The Earth’s apostle

[mlea]

Wow, I thought this was beautiful! It brought me to Vermont in late March. I have included a few thoughts and suggestions below, but of course, stick to your voice!

I think the enjambment and the ABAB rhyme scheme in the first stanza is a very effective start.

In the second stanza, I wonder if there is a better word than "mess"? Dirt and grit are vivid images, and in contrast "mess" feels a little on the nose.

When you say "For novel needs it shifts and drifts", are you implying that the change in the seasons is driven by changing needs of the flora? From this line, I get the impression that you believe change is not an external force, but something created by an internal changing need.  This is an interesting stance, but I don't see it further explored in the poem, so I wonder if I am reading it incorrectly. Later, when "The loss of life ferments and allows for a new birth" it sounds to me like the external force of changing seasons has created internal change in the flora, not the other way around.

I think the transition between stanza 2 and 3 is excellent. I would consider replacing one of the "froms" in "From wounds gathered from the frost and freeze".

The introduction of the narrator in stanza 4 is an interesting turn. Through the rest of the poem, I felt a little unsure who the narrator really is. The line "Bearing all of which is mine" makes the narrator sound like an omnipresent force, but the prolonged image of leaving one handprint on the earth seems like a small contribution in comparison. The sign off as Earth's apostle labels the narrator as a supporter and messenger for the Earth, but was the message the handprint? And if so, was the "you" it was left for the Earth itself? So is the narrator speaking FOR or speaking TO the Earth? In the end, I am not fully sure of the narrator's role, but I definitely spent some time trying to piece it together and maybe that was the point?

Personally, I like the changing rhyme scheme in stanza 6 because I think it sets the readers up for the tone change in stanza 7. However, sometimes switching the rhyme scheme throws people off, so I would just think about its purpose in the poem.

Thank you for this lovely read!

[Miley]

A leaf is pinned to the stream bed
forced flat by Winter’s raw
and wrathful storms now weeping, fed  Hmm, I like the images here but I get a bit hung up on who's weeping, and what are the drops? I believe its the storm weeping and the storms are also drops, but I think the grammar makes it little unclear. Maybe its just me... 
as drops into the thaw.

Change is mess and dirt and grit
but soft and molded too
For novel needs it shifts and drifts
Seeping, creeping toward the root. I could really follow the rhythm in this stanza

Dripping, sticking, sweetening sap
Sweating from hearts of trees Evocative Image!
They will also bleed This line feels flat, and if it didn't break your form I could see you omitting it all-together, as the previous line feeds into the next just as well without it.
From wounds gathered from the frost and freeze

I step beneath the open sky
I sink, displacing gravity
Bearing all of which is mine-
Spring cleaning of a cavity.

I reach out in acknowledgement
To touch the seeping earth
The loss of life ferments
And allows for a new birth. I think this is what your poem is largely about, but these two lines may veer a little on the telling side where you've done such a good job with images earleir.

Tongues probe between my fingers Interesting!
I hold a hand that lingers
As I make an impression
Holding possession Not sure how to understand this stanza, but the first line is vivid

Of that which does not exist.
The breeze dries my knuckles
And there, cracks an itching kiss 
I leave you with my mark and fossil. Fossil is unexpected. It makes me think about the way we leave our impression on nature, nice. 
With love,
The Earth’s apostle I think you can omit these last two lines I leave you with my mark and fossil feels like a stronger ending. 

From this poem I get the feeling of nature as a shifting thing that must always be in flux to allow for new birth. I think the poem is operating the best when your using inventive images from the natural world to serve as metaphor. I thought some of the rhymes were more subtle than others, a few of them felt a little forced impression/possession gravity/cavity for example. Just my 2cents, thnx for sharing your poem.

[LSClanton]

I want to express my gratitude for both of your excellent feedback. I have adopted many of your changes and also made some adjustments to improve the message of the poem and clear up the narrator's role and intent. It is about the impression we make upon the earth and our relationship with it. I hope the new edits clear some of this up.
Again, I am so grateful for the feedback!

Mud Season

A leaf is pinned to the stream bed
forced flat by Winter’s raw
and wrathful storms now fed
drop by drop into the thaw

Dripping, sticking, sweetening sap
Sweating from hearts of trees
They also bleed from their wounds racked,
exposed by frost and freeze

Change is muck and dirt and grit,
but soft and molded too
For novel needs it shifts and drifts
seeping, creeping toward the root.

I step onto the sun-warmed sod
from permafrosted shade.
I sink, a subject to the laws
of gravity and change.

My hand splays out- an open prayer
Strikingly unafraid
Beginning overdue repair
of a pocked and broken faith

Tongues probe between my fingers
holding my impression
Time pauses, breathes, and lingers,
then slowly takes possession

Sucking, squelching, we dehisce.
On cracked and drying knuckles
The breeze plants an itching kiss
I leave you with my mark and fossil.