The day after the snow,
we take a walk, muffled
by scarves and hats, the silent
words we long to say
in the waves of glistening white.
The snow slivers beneath our feet
in its caroling melt and stream.
Yesterday’s gray vaults a buoyant blue,
a brimming for beak and wing.
And among the trees, the buds spindle, scales
to hold the essential, unfold
by saluting the sun.
You take my arm.
I hold your heart.
We are a hemmed uncertainty,
freighted stalks bearing heavy news
and messy hope, daring
to lean toward spring.