On Waiting

A poem on waiting, awakening, and the end of winter.

Tulip #1, Acrylic painting by Jody Crowley.

Waiting

From the darkness
I feel the cold.

Waiting for warmth
I watch for light.

As hints of sun
touch the ground.

I stretch and crack,
scared.

As wetness surrounds,
I reach further.

Both up and down,
firming my feet.

Looking for escape,
not wanting to drown.

I see a glimmer,
on the surface.

Jumping up to burst through,
I sway and dance in joy.

In wind and yellow days,
I bathe with other sprites.

And bloom, 
smiling wide.

I am entwined,
with my fellow tulips.

---

While writing this, I imagined a seed beneath the ground. What did you imagine?

My mother loved flowers, and tulips were among her favorites. Over the years she took pictures of outdoor beauty. After she passed away, I claimed one of her albums filled with these photos. When I started painting again, I gravitated to her images of the outdoors. Working with them brought me close to her once again.

I chose this tulip from one of the pages. Originally, a single white tulip, more pointed than most, and maybe in an earlier stage of growth. My painted version ended with the green cast in the petals, and has a feeling of newness. It felt like a natural pairing with this poem.

If you’d like to read more:

Memories: Like Blades of Grass

Curl: A Poem on How Time Takes Its Toll

“Waiting” was written from a prompt shared in a writing session with Alix Klingenberg after reading “February” by Tamiko Beyer: “I’m climbing out of this season.”

Copyright © 2025-2026 by Jody Crowley.