pollen before the wind –
grandma’s door again
with a golden handle
Pollen is a subtle and fruitful matter. A golden powder being carried by a faceless and bodiless being towards a stigma miraculously apt to perpetuate life and liveliness.
In the natural slippage of suggestions, it cumulates the almost magical prestige of all golden things. The reality that the poem evokes is a rich one, in which the tale is intertwined with the real world. The golden doorknob reopens the realm full of fabulous promises of the beginnings.
Comment by Corneliu Traian Atanasiu