Archive 03/13/12 - (4)

 

   

Miraculous

                                                                  

 

Walking outdoors, in jeans and a fleece jacket,

On a gleaming, fifty-eight-degree afternoon in northern Wisconsin,

Which, normally (until recent years, anyway),

With spring being just a week or so away,

Would still register throat-choking, below-zero temperatures,

With every inch of earth buried in six-foot drifts of silent whiteness,

 

And breathing in this crisp, clean, bright, warm March air

Feel so refreshing, invigorating, marvelous, fantastic, miraculous,

As though this extraordinary day were a magical hen

Stolen from a giant's beanstalk tree-house,

A fairy-tale creature that might never stop laying its eggs —

One golden sun forever after another forever-after, forever.

 

 

 

 

                                         

 

 

03/13/12 - (4)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 
 
 
 
       

 

 

 
   
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