Another Virgin Spring
This winter bore a virgin spring.
The mountains shed their snowy veil
And donned a purple gown of sage,
Of columbine and fairy tale.
As a mountain: How stoicly
I my silent vigil keep.
As melting snow: How quickly love
begins to thaw and seep.
Into wandering streams: How aimlessly
my solemn life has run.
Into mountain lakes: So deeply cold,
so coldly still alone.
How gladly deer, from crag to slope,
upon the mounts cavort;
As sadly I resort to flight
from airy dreams to bankrupt hope.
And I am still as much alone,
just as much alone.
But when a fragrant scent of spring
The newborn world secretes,
Its joyous reawakening
The wintry death defeats.
For life, endued with hope, endows
Creation with this yearning:
We know the ebb is lowest
When the tide is turning.
Then birds and beagles, cows and
coyotes, snakes and chickens all join in:
Their chirping, barking, lowing,
baying, hissing, clucking affirmation:
Life is good!
And springtime moves the coldest beast
To find a mate.
To begin again.
We must find its promise
And hold fast
~Mark A. Rector