Spring's song of hope is frozen tonight,
thinking death unwelcome in such cold,
someday only a frozen body
beneath moonlight gleaming
across a cemetery field,
but tonight wind howls and stars
form native myths above my head.
All humans harbor hope.
Tomorrow's morning will begin again,
rosy glow, like someone opening windows
of the day wider, sun higher in its axis,
forsythia flock twittering, snow opening
its collar to green under my pine tree,
iced ponds birthing black pools of water.
Death swallowed in the victory of the cross.
Christ's answer to death.
"As ice in water overcomes the liquid
so long as night and darkness last,
but then breaks up under warm rays
of the sun ... so death ruled over us
until Christ came. When the joy
of God our Savior appeared, the sun
of justice rose up." (St. Basil the Great) Our new birth
arrived, rescued from winter in Pascha.
Rebirth in the thaw.