Saturday, February 21, 2015

Winter Gardening

It is still winter--sharp, dry
winter of the acidic wind,
coldest February yet.
Everything is breaking:
the furnace,
the doorbell,
focus, and
our delicate peace.
Veterans say this is normal
for the time of year.

Still . . .
stepping into the warm hallway,
small voices call my name;
small arms reach for hugs.

Perhaps we are all
like larkspur seeds,
enduring our freeze
to later flame our brilliant blues,
our double pinks,
our triangled spires of blossom.

4 comments:

  1. That last stanza! From your lips, Elena, to God's ears. Twenty-seven days remain until the vernal equinox. And yes, I believe every Bostonian is counting the days!

    Thank you for your poem. As always.

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    Replies
    1. Yes! You've had some awful weather your way! But have you noticed how much lighter the days are getting? That is very hopeful, very hopeful indeed.

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    2. We're a minute shy of 11 hours of daylight! And we're a mere 12 days away from Daylight Saving Time.

      Oh, I'm usually a winter fan, as you may know! But this winter has been frighteningly surreal.

      Do you know of a book of photographs and spiritual meditations called "The Promise of Winter"? It is the work of Martin Marty, and his son Micah. I think of this book because even in the extremity of our Boston winter, there is promise. Doesn't God delight in bringing life out of barrenness, water from the rock, and flowers after the long cold lonely winter? Forgive me for (characteristically!) rambling, but I'm thinking of that line by Edward Estlin Cummings, "thou answerest them only with Spring."

      Joining you in your hopefulness!

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    3. What cheering words! (And I will have to try to look up "The Promise of Winter.")

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