Redbud Blossoms, Winter Sunset Songs, and Government Takeovers

Yesterday I made a Facebook post about redwoods being in bloom; now I do not live in California.  Indeed, I have never seen a redwood tree, and I have no idea what their blooms look like or if they bloom at all.

What I meant was that the redbud trees are in bloom.  I had been seeing a sheen of red on a tree here and there, the kind of hazy rust color that made me wonder if I was really seeing it at all.  But yesterday there was no doubt.  I saw a tree with pink blooms in one yard, and the cluster of trees near the interstate was in bloom too, seemingly overnight.

Redbuds are among the first to bloom, and they look like cherry trees from a distance.  But we don't have as many cherry trees here.  Redbuds are all over the place.

I corrected my Facebook post, and it made me remember another oopsie of the week.  On Monday I was listing on the board the characters from Flannery O'Connor's "A Good Man Is Hard to Find." Instead of The Misfit I wrote The Misfoot.  I didn't even realize it until 10 minutes later when I returned to the list to add another character and saw it.  I laughed as I thought about what a misfoot would look like; some students laughed with me, and others looked confused.  

Last night the light at sunset was beautiful, but it was a holdover from Winter.  We might be near meteorological spring (March 1, I think), but the light was cold and crystalline.

I've been trying to put all these elements into a poem:  redbud trees, the slant of cold light as the sun sets, the struggle between the governed and the inept. the fact that we've never been far from the fascists we fear.  I thought that by bringing in a political element, maybe I could avoid the cliches that come with poems about the first blooms of spring.

So far what I have is a collection of images and lines that don't seem to go together:

The sunset sings a winter song

The redbud trees have blossomed

The government takeover continues,

The struggle between the governed and the inept.

Slant of light, cold revealer.

Feathered light, 

the fact that we've never been far from the fascists we fear.

I'll put it aside and see what might bubble up in the next day or two.  Or maybe nothing will--but I'm always happy to be putting images on paper, putting lines together to see where they lead.