19 January 2010 § 1 Comment
When glory suddens in the middle of winter,
(hello sun! writing back from your holiday?)
baring soles in a tumble of meadow is to
syphon life from the earth into fingertips and hairends,
bearing souls in bubblemotion
—-near the surface, near warmth—-
love it, and know it, and bear it within
when you must again descend:
for it is not long till Spring.
And don’t forget to weep in the breeze,
for life is beautiful in the truest sigh of God.