Out of Winter’s Deep

I.

Today, I will not think about pain

            or insufficiencies of character,

the snow banked up all around

            need not be the end of the story.

Why is it that during the last storm

            I was able to bring patience

with my broom and slowly sweep away

            the great accumulation?

 

In the night, the deer stripped

            the shrubbery

and somehow, through grace, I was

            stripped of nightmares and indulgent

                        brooding

The deer know what it takes to survive a winter

their leavings a language we all understand.

 

II.

There is a ridgeline above the house

and over it, the sun pours in the morning

if it is not obscured by weather,

and it is a dazzling, momentous moment

where shadow is eclipsed in a few seconds

and with wind such as today

the air is crystalline as snow sifts through,

skimmed from the trees.

 

Such a light is relentless

            it reaches into the house like

                        a giant hand

that will turn you, that will see your face

“You must,” it says 

deftly lifting you out of yourself

            where all the pitfalls of humanity

            are laying about in the aftermath

            of their great debauch

and you know that this is a weight you need not carry

            “You must,” is the light’s refrain

as you slip on your coat and boots, open the door

            and make for the top of the ridge.