The woods deepen

Bare branches
coated with ice
reach out in silence

Bird cries mute
behind the intricate
cloud veil

In our cold room
in darkness
we hold flesh to flesh

Blind we touch
thoughts of the field
under snow

Keeping untilled
                        

Snowdrops emerge through a thatch of frozen leaves,
their small white beads quivering on slender green stems.

Under lithe red limbs of dogwood, purple-streaked crocuses
mob and bloom in an expanding ring of effusive bells.

Against the concrete foundation, white and yellow daffodils
crowd and wave towards the colder places in the world.

In those exposed, open spaces, armies of green spears
rise from bare ground to give succor to Thalias and Alfreds.

The less disciplined rubbery leaves of would-be tulips
ruffle over the last year’s shovelings of rotted mulch.

Startled by an outbreak of fierce swallows and bluebirds
competing for the same nesting box, I look through a maze

of swollen green lilac buds and sense unguarded hope
surging through griefs bound into countless fallen leaves.

When I step back into my house, the darkness is intense;
but above a stale air, the scent of a spring lily thrives.
                        

It is a wholeness of one
Like the sun it shines light that transforms
All fears from lurking darkness

No one is immune to it
In the darkest cave of despair one burning coal
Bearing light inwardly pierces the soul

Bound into darkness
The cave of suffering is lit enough from within
To engrave its own walls

Ages hence people enter
The same monstrous cave and find the same fire
Lighting all stories

Perpetuating the meaning
Of something bright and dark that springs like a bird
Through our cupped hands