no. 41

of light in the dark, no. 1

birds, stop your singing

warbles full of the promise of springtime

i am not ready for the end of winter

not ready to let go of the comfort

i find in its arms, dark and cold

the brightness of the snow the only

light in this darkness

if this body could, it would

find a place where the stars were most brilliant

and lie down, the blanket of the drifts

would wrap it in the solemn reverence

the comforting quiet

will stand in stark contrast to the cacophony

of spring

birds, stop your singing

you harbingers of noise

interrupt my devotion to the silence

i am not prepared to shed my layers

to denude my hibernating body

while my soul is still tethered to the

extended night, getting its fill

sustenance for the warmer months ahead.

(written 14 february 2018)

no. 32

spring visit

roots delving down, shoots stretching upward

the tickle of crystalline frost on their leaves and buds,

snowdrops peek through the drifts

embodying the contradiction of tenuous and hardy

 

springtime makes a visit to its brother, winter

the air turns succulent, redolent with promises

of warmer weather preceded by snowmelt

and followed by rebirth

 

yes, the air tries to be heady, to fulfill spring’s promises,

but the breeze snaps it out of its silliness:

no, it is not time yet, do not be fooled

winter is not yet ready to leave his mother’s house

 

the pre-vernal sun, still distant and wan

is in no hurry, so with icy lips

winter kisses the flowers, spring’s early gift

and puts them back to sleep.

(written 11 february 2018)