Wintering

Grey streaks the sky

in shades of pewter and ash.

On the ground shards of ice

and a blanket of evergreen boughs

remind me of the storm

that cut the cords of connection

that warm us,

I do not know what propels

me forward

each day.

I do not know how I rise

to sit in the dark dawn

awaiting another day

without you.

I only know

that the hummingbird

risks falling daggers of ice

to dip into sweet nectar.

Nourishment wins over

fear of being struck down.

I only know

the koi wait motionless

under a half-frozen pond

for the warming,

for the wintering to end,

as they know it will.

I only know

that this season’s grievings

have settled into my bones,

carving symbols into flesh

taking memories and spinning

then into golden threads

beaded with tears

wrapped in my only

heartbeat.

There is no way to

know

before I know.

No book or guru or letter

of instruction

on how to live through

this descent.

There is only

the reminder of

trees bouncing back

after being bent to the earth

by ice and wind.

There is only

the small joy

of a daffodil

determined to bloom

through the impossible

weight of a snowy

winter coat.