Prevernal for the Vernal Equinox: Everyday Magic, Day 891

IMG_0172On this day of balance between winter and summer, I share this small poem about the just-on-cusp-of-changing prevernal world.

Prevernal

The dogs stop. The deer

over the loop of the field

pause. The highway rising west

clears. I wait. Let my breath make itself

visible. Count the turkeys frozen

against the cedars or mid-field

between woods and prairie.

The wheel of the season waits too,

then rolls toward its next click.

Time to go closer to what’s ready to bud out,

just last week milk deep in snow.

When the world resumes in birds

and greening trail, all crosses over.

Meets or doesn’t meet at the other side

where dreams stand on all four new legs,

then jolt into steps without considering

the weight of landing.

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