Book of the Week – The Call of Wildflowers by Julie Bloss Kelsey

To celebrate Mother’s Day 2025 next week, we are featuring the poems of Julie Bloss Kelsey. In the lineage of Issa and modern haiku mothers alike, she writes not only of seasons and children, but of the tender ache of presence and absence—of lives begun, grown, and sometimes lost. This collection is both diary and dream.

Let us now consider selected poems:

pregnant at forty—
I never knew I missed you
until you were born

This opening haiku sets the tone: plainspoken, yet luminous with emotional weight. The first line—a declaration of late motherhood—is fact. Not missing someone before they arrive, but realizing the vacancy only once it is filled is a remarkable observation.

my baby doll
in my daughter’s arms…
my baby dolls

This poem, with its tender humor speaks not just of maternal memory but of inheritance. The toy once held, now held again, but by a new small hand. The final line, with its pluralization—my baby dolls—is a masterstroke.

nativity play…
the star of Bethlehem
loses his way

Here, Kelsey’s understated humor shines through again. The misdirected child playing a star becomes a metaphor—perhaps unintentionally—for the chaos and imperfection of real life within sacred traditions. The ellipsis draws us into the scene with a dramatic pause, mimicking both a stage direction and a knowing smile.

first sonogram
so excited to see you
we didn’t notice
your missing heartbeat

the silence

This poem is an elegy rendered in whispers. The first three lines set up expectation, joy, the miracle of modern vision. The final two lines, stark and sudden, shatter it. The juxtaposition is devastating.

family photo—
four smiles
and a smirk

This brief poem captures the entire dynamic of a modern family in just seven words. The smirk—so specific, so telling—suggests rebellion amidst order. It could be the poet’s child, the poet herself, or even a commentary on the act of posing for family unity. It’s humorous, yes, but also layered: in every attempt to capture perfection, reality peeks through. The smirk is truth.

Conclusion

Julie’s collection traverses the seasons of motherhood, childhood, and familial intimacy. Like Bashō’s famous journey to the interior provinces, Kelsey’s journey is toward the interior of the heart. Her palette is motherhood; her kigo are ballet slippers, school shoes, sonograms, snow days, and preschool field trips. She invites us to sit with her in the minivan, in the school hallway, in the hush of a nursery, or the sterility of a sonogram room—and in each, she finds poetry.

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