Just a few hours ago, I wondered if I should read sudden rain again as portent of what's to come; if the week's swing from freezing to warm and back, and news of floods and mudslides in island towns are additional reminders of the end everyone says is looming more ominously than before. At the gas station two days ago, I couldn't wash my windshield clear because the squeegee was frozen in the water bucket. Night still falls early, and dark is still dark. But the baby is happy with the crinkled paper wrapper around a plastic block, and the toddler gathers dry leaves and dandelion leaves in both hands, carefully constructing a salad. How is it possible I walked into the house of someone I met for the first time, and came away with the gift of a living plant in my arms?
Purveyors of fine poetry since 2003.