I live in the northeast. This morning I went out to add an empty egg carton to the recycling bin before the truck comes by, and I noticed that there was a sheen of ice all over the wine bottle and other items in the bin from the night before. And now it is snowing, adding another layer to the frozen ground. The parking lot is a nightmare.
And I chose this, I remind myself. I always get a bit downhearted this time of year. I have a sensitivity to the lack of sunlight. I tend to sleep too much and eat too much and just generally feel very lazy. And I think this is what makes me appreciate the spring and the first daffodils coming up and the "cheer cheer!" cry of the robins.
Meanwhile, here's a poem for the Sad Sky.
There's a pattern to it
This mysterious ribbon of inescapability
I can't define it really
Or won't
It's clinging to my joy
Like a weight on the foot of a
Drowning man
One minute a weight,
The next a disappearing shadow
I can't fasten my mind carefully
To the ground
Or won't
And how can a poem help
What can it do to bring
Someone back to life
Heal an organ
Feed a child
Mere words
And yet it's all we have
In the end
These magnificent palaces of love
Exquisitely fashioned
By the shimmering
Translucent mind
Behind the shadow
Behind the ribbon
I grasp the pen
With my warm fingers
Breathing in the oxygen of it
Reality vibrates quietly
The only constant
And I'm grateful.
