I have this little
But I have it
The polar vortex has passed
And the aching, sore earth is sighing and misting
My boot finds every kind of frozen
Ice, slush, snow, hard snow, light snow
It doesn’t escape notice
The way the green plants dance in the stream
The way of the red branches among the dry grass
Silent sentinels of vibrant color.
I have this little
But I have it
The way of water in winter scenes
Obsidian moving, gleaming, slicing through the white
Expired plants extend their dried up hands
And offer their seeds to the wind
Live again
When snow has been drunk back into the earth
I have this little
But I have it.
