The Cusp of Spring

Outside, the lilacs bud.
Just in the last week
the grass has colored from brown to green.
Some days, not all, it is warm. We live
on the cusp of spring.

Today, I woke with a cat sleeping
against my legs. With the woman I love
next to the rest of me,
the quilt heavy and warm.
Light comes in the windows
and no need to rush away.

Time to linger. To savor.
To remember other seasons.
Dark seasons. Dark seasons.
Cold. Empty. Void. Hard.
Now, mostly memory.

Time to linger. To savor
the cusp of your own new spring, arrived
late in life. It will pass and change
like all the others, but you no longer live
in the past or the future.
You live here. Now
and life is worth living, worth
waking for, worth
the work you did, toiling in darkness
for so long. Faith, finally,
rewarded.

About this poem

Life is good these days. Unexpectedly good. Some days, I still wonder at this new thing in life – happiness. I won’t say it was worth the pain to get here, but it is worth the work it took, even when that work was more faith than certainty.

Faith does have it’s rewards.

Be well. Travel wisely,

Tom

PS: The picture is of the lilacs behind my home. From last year. They are not quite that far here in Vermont. Not yet.