Wicked Winter flows into softer Spring

(A delightful poem by a friend of ours.)


Wicked Winter flows into softer Spring,
not change for loss, but growth;
A constant circuit of renewal-repose.

While the sun, only a shadow of its Creator,
seeps through solid ground
To disquiet all that rests.

Whether by blanket of mist, rain or snow,
the smallest creatures are not forgotten
In sweet balance of diversity-fidelity.

And I in my pulsing chamber
am not much different
But to possess the gift of reason.

A gift or a curse?
I will not argue but rather submit
To every blessed pain-pleasure of growth.

-Jane Lucia Erikson, 1972