Somehow Still Surprising

They tell me the snow will end soon,
melt itself into the water table,
Flood a bit and become spring.
flowers and greening willows and crops.

They tell me the cold will end.
Not just the weather but the cold
deep down inside, the cold of loss
will warm again. People will remember
each other’s value, learn to listen again,
and why it matters.

They tell me, after a long winter of stumbling,
I will learn to walk again.
The obstacles will sink into the earth
as it thaws. I will once again leave footprints.

They tell me passion will return. The best of love
will return. These things run in cycles for those
who have the patience and work ethic. That it has nothing
to do with age or circumstance, but how we see.

I am old enough to know these things are all true.
All of them, if I am open to doing the work, even
not knowing why or where it is leading. A patient life,
eyes wide open, like a child, in wonder.

In the meanwhile, there is sun on the snow. Ice on the pond.
Silence abounds. There are people to love. Mirrors to look at
and remember who I am. Underneath it all, spring is ready
to pounce. Somehow, still surprising after all these years.

About this poem

I am not happy in the times I am now living. Much is not to my liking in the world around me. There is too much anger. Too much selfishness. Too much breaking and too little building. I am tired of winter, which usually does not happen. I rarely stay still for long, even if I do not know where I am going. I was made to wander. Life runs in cycles. I know this. From all these things, this poem.

The photograph was taken in North Adams, Mass.

Tom