It was that day.
That day that points to Day.
The one after groundhog day, but before the first bud of spring bewitches you with it's perfect beauty. It was cold, but the bright sun awakened such an ache in me that it didn't matter. Freezing was impossible. I had my red cashmere hat and scarf-the one with the pink and purple stripes, and my orange suede gloves. I had my walkman, and Bono rocking me through the streets downtown.
Sometimes, God is silent. Sometimes you press your face against the pane of dark glass, searching for Him and all you see is black, and night, and you know the stars are already dead--just gas, fouling the sky, and in the way.
But then there's that day, the one with the startling sunlight. The one with blue sky, the color of a lover's eyes giving you that look that makes you feel beautiful anyway. The sky that is no longer white, competing with the snow. And the snow, surrenders and lies on the surface of everything, just melting. Making love to the earth. You want to fling your coat over your shoulders. You want to throw your hands in the air. You want to run for no good reason, and you smile at everyone. You give the wino a dollar. Maybe two.
Ah, beloved, it's almost just spring, when the world is puddle wonderful like e.e. cummings sang. Lift your cup to the Lord, and say fill me, fill me, fill me.
And wait for the rain.
I feel You, Abba.
The winter emptied me.
Forced me to sleep.
But, it's almost time to awaken, with wide eyes and no shades;to press my hands up from the thawing soil of my grave