upon winter's thaw
but the blooming is still a long way
there are no bees nor buds
peeking from dawn's grey mist-
but its a perfect time for tapping
maple trees for sap, each drop
into bucket to be boiled long until
sieved low & smooth
it is raw sugar,
amber, dripping thick & golden
perfect for morning pancakes
this reminds me
how each of your poetic word
lands on my tongue
wood-fired, syrup
Process notes: Feb-March are maple trees sugar seasons for us ~ Up north, Ontario farms tapped sap from maple trees to be boiled and sold as maple syrup. This maple sap making business was taught by First Nations and was an important social activity. The tradition of collecting maple sap and boiling it down- it takes 40 gallons of sap to make 1 gallon of syrup- spans Eastern Canada. But nowhere is it better understood and more embedded in in the culture than in Quebec, which produces 77% of the entire world supply, over 32,000 metric tons.
Posted for OpenLinkNight at D'verse Poets Pub - Hosted by Anthony Desmond ~
Your season is pretty much the same as ours here, Grace. No bees, no buds, not much green. But...nice to get that sap flowing. Nothing like fresh maple syrup!
ReplyDeleteMaple doesn't do well here in Alberta ...so, thank you for your sweet gift, Grace :) Love, cat,
ReplyDelete"wood-fired, syrup"---a succulent poem, Grace! The blooming will rise soon singing yellow, but your words are more than enough for now. I enjoyed this, thank you. Hope you are well. Smiles.
ReplyDeletewood-fired, syrup...hmmm... the sweetness of poetry can be compared perfectly with the sweetness and richness of maple syrup... i'm hungry for pancakes now - or for words - or both - ha
ReplyDeletehmm yummylicious..................
ReplyDeleteLovely and SWEET, Grace!
ReplyDeleteHUgs
JetteMajken
This is delicious! And you've got me dreaming of pancakes and syrup...haven't had those in quite a while...
ReplyDeleteIt is a process but a most rewarding and delicious one. Your poem is perfect for this.
ReplyDeleteWonderful poem, Grace. I love the analogy with poetry and feel like eating a stack of pancakes covered in maple syrup.
ReplyDeleteI have said those words several times now: wood-fired, syrup. What a delightful poem for the tongue this is. I can smell the maple sap cooking even as I read.
ReplyDeleteI thought that was a wonderful, well written piece!
ReplyDeleteMmm, made my mouth water. I once translated a novella all about maple syrup tapping in Quebec (but in a surrealist way) and have been intrigued by it ever since. I love the way your lines carry over into the next tercet - very much like the treacly syrupy concoction, sliding smoothly from one to the next.
ReplyDeletemmmm. I love maple syrup... the richness of poetry can def compare to that of syrup... a sweet write :)
ReplyDeleteWonderful words Grace and 'wood-fired, syrup' - a perfect close to a perfect close.
ReplyDeleteKind regards
Anna :o]
It really set the season's mood for me...as no sun, no green here too yet, but who will refuse from fresh maple syrup...nice details here combined with smooth poetic line...
ReplyDeleteWondrous mystery sweet.
ReplyDeleteCatchy tercets, finely crafted, informative, fun, sensual, have often wondered what it took to render down to a gallon of syrup. Did not know it was native Americans who brought it to us either; cool & sweet & boss.
ReplyDeletemy uncle had a sugar house, and we recently found a gallon of his maple syrup that had been in my mom's home for over 10 years. It was still delicious. You find passion even in the unadorned woods.
ReplyDeleteDecadent word choice. I apologize for the corny comment, but there really is no other way to say it.
ReplyDeleteA delicious and yumm poem Grace:))
ReplyDeleteWonderful! The last stanza: glorious! You definitely tapped into a plethora of memories for me - having done a bit of maple sugaring with my family, many years ago when we lived in Ottawa.
ReplyDeleteThis is such a delicious poem... if I might say so... beautifully written.. nice flow in the lines :D I specially adored the lines:
ReplyDelete"maple trees for sap, each drop
into bucket to be boiled long until
sieved low & smooth"
I do love maple trees.. :)
Loved your poem..
xoxo
I knew how much it took, but never knew so much came from Quebec.
ReplyDeleteAhhh the seasons change and the sap rises. And those last lines, I love words that taste sweet on the tongue - nice, Grace.
ReplyDeleteOh my gosh, I'm not sure weather I should swoon with sensuality of this poem or from the lack of pancakes. Great write thank you for teasing my senses and the smile.
ReplyDeleteThis is so lovely, Grace--I could practically smell the maple sugar, now I'm hungry for syrup and pancakes (notice the order I put them in)!
ReplyDeleteDelicious words Grace landing on my tongue...aah...
ReplyDeleteVery interesting/informative, but I also love the ending comparison to the poet's words landing on the tongue.
ReplyDeleteLovely poem but even more interesting Quebec! Poutine AND maple Syrup. where could life be better?
ReplyDeletehad no idea where this was going... what a pleasant surprise at the end... lovely, as always Grace
ReplyDeleteAll the work for the maple syrup and how the sap is filling up the trees is a wonderful time.. I feel there is sap rising in me as well.. So much easier to be sweet as well...
ReplyDeleteAll the work for the maple syrup and how the sap is filling up the trees is a wonderful time.. I feel there is sap rising in me as well.. So much easier to be sweet as well...
ReplyDeleteSeriously Canadian content. I think it is time for breakfast.
ReplyDeleteI'm in the mood for pancakes now. Love your poem and how you write about the biggest sign of Spring in your part of the world. Also, like that you equate poetry to sweet maple. Love them both.
ReplyDeleteGrace, you transported me into the wonderful cool climes of Canada, I could involve all my senses in reading this--sparing me a while the dry summer-like season we are experiencing.
ReplyDeleteThe expectation is overwhelming! One certainly yearns for the greenery of Spring! Rightly so Grace!
ReplyDeleteHank
anything worth anything is worth the time. concentrated goodness - like this pen. good weekend to you, Grace ~
ReplyDeletethis is so wonderfully sensual and wistful...filled with hunger and yearning and that drip on the tip of the tongue at the end, fabulous.
ReplyDeleteI like the way the promise of nectar, bees and buds to come leads into the reality of early Spring maple syrup making. "Wood-fired, syrup" stimulates the senses.
ReplyDeleteI love your comparison of maple syrup to poetic words, Grace. And I also like the idea of the slow flow of nectar hinting at the promise of spring. Provokes all the senses with a yearning :)
ReplyDeletemy mouth is watering and suddenly, i'm craving flapjacks... such is the power of your words.
ReplyDeletei might have breakfast for dinner tonight.
A lovely way of describing the way a poem can affect you.
ReplyDelete