Vox Populi
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Michael T. Young: What the World Waits for
What the World Waits For
It’s not always clear
until it happens to come our way.
Like that day I sat in the yard
under the braids of summer light,
reading, weighing thought
against thought for what was right
or what was wrong,
when above me, in the branches,
a bird I’d never seen before
scooted around, rooting in the bark,
dangling upside down, its white breast
flanked by black wings, a black mask
over its eyes that stopped at the beak
and a small wisp of red near its crown.
If he found what he was looking for,
I couldn’t say, although I had
in hoping for nothing more.
—
A Friend Confides
He saw a cardinal lean into a maple leaf
as if whispering into it the secret of flight.
The way rain drives its nails into the Earth’s
coffin, satisfies a thirst in every living thing.
When the sea throws itself at his feet, he feels
an overwhelming desire to forgive it for something.
But what, he’s not been able to find
in any of the shells or sand it tosses aside.
He suspects that all the reflective surfaces
are trying to remind him of something important,
but when he looks, it’s obscured by his own face.
There’s a cricket outside his window that harps,
all summer long, about his love for the world.
He’s still trying to find it so he can learn how.
~~~~
Michael T. Young’s fourth collection, Mountain Climbing a River, will be published by Broadstone Media in late 2025. His poetry has been featured on Verse Daily and The Writer’s Almanac.
Poems copyright 2025 Michael T. Young
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I love these poems. Wonderful poems, wonderful poet.
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He really is.
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Thank you, Donna. The admiration is mutual.
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These two delightful poems sing, like the cricket, their love for the world ❤️
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Yes they do!
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Thank you, Lisa! So glad they delighted you.
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I started to respond this morning but suddenly realized I would run late for my morning meditation ( insight timer, shikantaza zen). Love these poems. As I write this I am alternately looking out the window at the well-attended birdfeeders and baths in my native plant garden.
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Thank you, Barbara. Glad you didn’t miss your morning meditation.
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Glad I didn’t miss your poems!
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Very fine work.
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Isn’t it, though?
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Than you, Don.
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Struck as I was by your work, I picked up an e-copy of “The Infinite Doctrine of Water.” Very much looking forward to reading it. D
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Thank you, Don. I hope the books strikes for you as significant a chord as these 2 poems did.
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That manks me happy!
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Like you, Michael, and like many, many more I’m sure, I have been reading Michel Young’s poems with great attention for years. And so often it’s their openness to hope, their willingness to find it, and their love of beauty and light against all odds that I find comfort in. How so many of his poems “satisfy a thirst” I have of paying attention and learning from “every living thing.”…These poems remind me of another one of his poems “Birds that Migrate” that I love. I’m impatient to own his new book end of this year! Thank you for these two fine, fine poems.
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I couldn’t agree more, Laure-Anne.
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Thank you, Laure-Anne. I can’t express the depth of my gratitude. I’m a long-time admirer of your poetry.
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There’s hope in both these poems. They remain alive to wakefulness in the world. The one thing they lack is bullshittery, as Michael shows us how to seek joy in nature’s woodpeckerry, Thanks.
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Bullshittery vs woodpeckery. Hmmm. Very original phrasing to describe the lies of humans vs. the truth of nature. Thanks, Jim.
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Thank you, Jim. Yes, I’m very happy to “seek joy in nature’s woodpeckerry.”
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Just before reading these two wonderful, relatable poems I had stepped outside of my confinement for a few moments and sought renewable in the morning air. I was not disappointed; the wax-leaf privet bush in bloom by the backdoor, actually small tree sized, has saturated the air with an almost too sweet scent and the Gardenia’s first bloom competed for attention. I sniffed and bowed to them both. A small bird, probably a Carolina Wren called and teased me from the trees daring me to come fine her and learn her secrets. But alas, obligations, self imposed and otherwise, call. Thanks for the poems! Perhaps, I can make myself write something today.
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What a wonderful moment you had stepping outside. I hope it provides the inspiration for something later today. Glad you enjoyed the poems. Thank you.
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Lyricism, humility, and the rare honesty of perhaps being unable to love the world…thank you, a beautiful poetic execution, a flash of light in the darkness of our days.
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Thank you, Margo. Blessed you like them.
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Beautifully said, Margo. Thank you.
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Braids of summer light… Wonderful poems and images.
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Isn’t it?
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Thank you so much.
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These are very fine poems Michael! Both of them and perhaps they transport the oncoming season to my sensibilities although I can’t say exactly why. The pool was too warm to swim in last night, although I swam in it anyway. The world of man is hard to love today. I suppose I shall love it anyway. I am grateful this morning, in part by these poems, to be here this moment exorbitantly blessed in bewildering life.
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Thank you, Sean. I’m especially grateful for your appreciation; I’m an admirer of your work. And, indeed, it is difficult to love the world of man these days. We find what beauty and light we can and nurture it. I think poetry is certainly one of those things, and moments in nature–bird song, flowers, tress, sunsets, etc.
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There’s a cricket outside his window that harps,
all summer long, about his love for the world.
He’s still trying to find it so he can learn how.
Yes! How different and fresh these poems are.
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I agree, Noelle! I’ve been following Michael Young’s career for a number of years. He keeps getting better and better.
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Thank you so much, Noelle. I very much appreciate it.
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under the braids of summer light, – what a gorgeous line! And the last line – thank you!
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