On the day I realized that I was getting older
the catalpa blooms fell
descending softly
from wrinkled bark
from bending branches
from yellowing leaves
the roses wept with me
from sadness
from obligation
their petals scattering
like tissues on the soil
the earth sang its burdens
the bond to phenology
the mourning of losses
the necessity of decay
and I realized the song was my own
the earth sang its promises
to make room for life
to set roots in the dust
to produce fruit from wilt
and I longed to know the words
As the weeks wore on
in the slow growth of summer
my grief became something else
a breeze through the apple trees
that I whirled in my fingers
a scent of lavender
that I gathered in my lungs
a shadow from the swaying pine
that I welcomed on my skin
As the weeks wore on still
my bones began to hum
in trusting, in knowing
that someday soon
the catalpa would bloom again
—
Courtney is a recent master’s graduate from the School of Marine and Environmental Affairs at the University of Washington. Though trained in marine science, Courtney has always been fond of botany — a passion that blossomed in her grandmother’s garden. She is currently solo traveling the world as part of the Bonderman Fellowship, observing the ways in which people connect to their natural environment.
