BardBliss: MidWinter Thaw

Fall Yard, Rose Hip

Not the right time of year for this, but then it's not literal anyway, and the sentiment, the metaphor feel right for this moment of resurrected hope:

Midwinter Thaw

I sat at the sealed doors
of mausoleums and on cold
marble in the city cemetery
during a midwinter thaw.

I moved from stone to stone,
hill to hill, bench
to bench, searching
for the best view
through the leafless trees
to the fine blue line
of lake.

Dozens of crows gathered
and cawed and one
brought back
my missing,
still-sparkling,
though-used-and-battered,
diamond like
soul.

I put it in my pocket
and I walked home
down the center
lane of cherry and dogwood,
imagining
the sprays of pink and white
to come.

--christine c. reed