Winter writes to spring

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Is it okay to be happy today, when

the world is so sad? To fold into the arms

of pink and yellow, to carry my grief

like an Easter egg — fragile but vivid.

Maybe I’ll leave this sorrow among the leaves

of new grass, its green the pulse of breathing

and of ceasing to breathe; of all that ebbs

and flows again. Maybe I’ll string this sorrow

among the branches of the cherry trees

for the birds to weave into nests, or for the wind

to carry away. Maybe I’ll plant it deep

in the still-dreaming earth

and see what blooms.

Filed under: photos, poetry, Writing