Snow again this morning
after several days
of deep freeze. Slow flakes
freed from heaven
lay down
at earth’s feet.
So much emptying.
I would love to live like a river flows…
This time of year the creek
is crusted, invisible
to passersby and their dogs.
But I have heard it speak,
water that will carry continents
at spring break-up,
downed trees,
carcasses of animals;
the elders, weak,
and dying.
…carried by the surprise of its own unfolding.
I sit in my windowed room
while the sun peels back morning,
each snowflake is a white flame.
Oh, this relentless light,
how the day brings its version
of joy and sorrow.
How much longer, LORD,
I would love to live…
(Lines indented and italicized are from John O’Donahue’s “Unfinished Poem”)
