The Forsythia Connection

Forsythia Along Our Driveway
[Taken by me ~ 12 April 2013]
Painting of a Drop of Seawater
I always wanted to be that random style of writer
Writing about things which have no connection
In reality but they are connective only by the ingenuity
Of his genuflection; the circumvention of his
Circuitous routing, his plaintive perturbing petulance
Which insists on stacking things of different orders
Flying birds together of different species
If I could write something of the ticking of clocks
Not as though the ticking were of premeditated duration
Embedded in metal tracks around perimeters
Of prevaricated die-cast hours; but as though the ticking
Were only a random fixture of a theoretical day
In which random clocks ticking played a minor role
During the still life of which a poet happened along
And copied it all down dutifully, not caring if
Ticking clocks were related to pitchers of Forsythia
Or falling off of cliffs into the Aegean;
The only task of the poet to capture it all
And let the reader sort it out later
In the random tracks of his circuitous brain:
Whether the pitcher was full of sea
Or the sea was stealing into the pitcher
One blue, serendipitous drop at a time
And where no clocks were keeping time.

~ by Patti Masterman

Amazing Rain Drops Powerpoint
[Not taken by me!]
My friend Jill shared this slideshow with me just a couple of hours after I photographed the forsythia in our yard, following an afternoon of rain. I had a hunch that the two images -- mine (above) and these yellow blossoms from the sildeshow -- were related . . . somehow . . . randomly.

When, later that same night, I came across this poem about forsythia and water drops, I knew for sure that they were "connective . . . by the ingenuity" of the poet!