when spring takes too long to come

i’m cramming the nooks and crannies of heart and head with things that remind me that rain is music on the roof; snow is a clean slate; wind brings change; and every season eventually, always, comes to an end.

1.

 Miss Mary Margaret

Miss Mary Margaret

the brilliance and beauty of Mary Margaret O\’Hara

2.

earl grey tea with a bit of milk

earl grey tea with a bit of milk

3.

the simple truths in the pages of The Camino Letters

pilgrimage.

pilgrimage.

4.

the comfort of blankets

the comfort of blankets

5.

good poetry

Mary Oliver

Mary Oliver

Cold now.

Close to the edge. Almost

unbearable. Clouds

bunch up and boil down

from the north of the white bear.

This tree-splitting morning

I dream of his fat tracks,

the lifesaving suet.

I think of summer with its luminous fruit,

blossoms rounding to berries, leaves,

handfuls of grain.

Maybe what cold is, is the time

we measure the love we have always had, secretly,

for our own bones, the hard knife-edged love

for the warm river of the I, beyond all else; maybe

that is what it means the beauty

of the blue shark cruising toward the tumbling seals.

In the season of snow,

in the immeasurable cold,

we grow cruel but honest; we keep

ourselves alive,

if we can, taking one after another

the necessary bodies of others, the many

crushed red flowers.


One Response to when spring takes too long to come
  1. Julie Kirkpatrick

    Just beautiful

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