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.


Return to Lenten Poetic Meditations


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