Hopeful

In the distance
Where the winter trees become sponges
And the vantage leaves everything much alone
A bird tucks its downy neck
Deep to meet its shoulder blades
At least as much as I can relate
To closing off space
To keep warm

There is serenity in the blink of birds
This one mostly
Seems to be waiting for spring
Where the stark blankness
Won’t blanket
But the patchwork of spring
Will pick up the colors
And then some
Weaving the same threads
Into innumerable patterns
Blending smooth
Without any discernible transition

This bird notices even more
While the richness I soak in
Is so pleasant
And so intoxicating
Hopeful mood lifted from its blustery slumber
My house is less than the planet
My home is divided

As the animals return
And the dangers become breathy
Every sprout cracking through the sandy earth
Sounds like an avalanche
Every tunneling worm
Predicts the future

Keenness awakens
Movement is borne
Rustling and bustling
And still there is a calmness
A meditative blink
That cuts through the clamor
As an expression of gratitude
--
3.13.08