Impression, with Rain and Buds

Hard rain falling into slush, fog thickening— cloud into cloud, gathered fistfuls of spray. I cannot tell where the edge of the lilac begins, cannot remember when I last glowed yellow like its buds. Incandescense is a hard word to track. On the streets, cars swerve or drive through intersections of water; it’s high tide too. The trees stipple with milk-white and tender pink blooms. How can there be such things in the world, almost oblivious to suffering?

Luisa A. Igloria
03 10 2011

In response to today’s Morning Porch entry (via Blackberry).

Series Navigation← Sonnet to Fleeing ThingsAfter Hokusai’s Thirty Six Views →

Poet Luisa A. Igloria (Poetry Foundation web page, author webpage ) is the winner of the 2015 Resurgence Prize (UK), the world’s first major award for ecopoetry, selected by former UK poet laureate Sir Andrew Motion, Alice Oswald, and Jo Shapcott. She is the author of What is Left of Wings, I Ask (2018 Center for the Book Arts Letterpress Chapbook Prize, selected by Natasha Trethewey); Bright as Mirrors Left in the Grass (Kudzu House Press eChapbook selection for Spring 2015), Ode to the Heart Smaller than a Pencil Eraser (Utah State University Press, 2014 May Swenson Prize), Night Willow (Phoenicia Publishing, 2014), The Saints of Streets (University of Santo Tomas Publishing House, 2013), Juan Luna’s Revolver (2009 Ernest Sandeen Prize, University of Notre Dame Press), and nine other books. She is a member of the core faculty of the MFA Creative Writing Program at Old Dominion University which she directed from 2009-2015. In 2018, she was the inaugural Glasgow Distinguished Writer in Residence at Washington and Lee University. When she isn’t writing, reading, or teaching, she cooks with her family, knits, hand-binds books, and listens to tango music.

5 Replies to “Impression, with Rain and Buds”


    How can there be things almost oblivious to suffering?
    How can there be glorious sunsets?
    How can there be spring flowers?
    How can there be singing birds?
    How can there be children laughing?
    How can there be mothers rearing?
    How can there be patriots dying?
    How can there be being instead of nothing?

    –Albert B. Casuga

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