Transition

Transitions are rough business. 

The transition from winter to spring this year has been particularly harsh. As the South and Midwest live through the horror of devastating tornadoes and floods, which passed within a few miles of my daughter's home and razed Tuscaloosa where she and my son went to school, and my home state of Texas suffers extreme drought and wildfires, my heart goes out to those who are reeling from the dangers of simply living on this planet.  And my heart is equally gladdened by the incredible power of community to pick up the pieces and give thanks.

I'm sure my own transition, the letting go of my Austin home and setting myself right again in New York, is somehow woven into this poem...

Transition



Jilted Winter
releases her bitter
clutch in rages,
wreaking litter of lives,
pelting possessions:
Scraps of photos.
Teacup shards.
A muddied shoe.
Hurled beyond miles
to strangers’ lawns,
disbelieving eyes.
Scorned, she
twists, flattens
scorches
drowns.
She casts us away.


We reel toward
the open arms
of Spring.
Mornings beckoned
by soothing breezes,
a lavish sun and
gleeful dogs.
Kind eyes of
nodding strangers.
Bask in drifting
petal confetti,
laden trees
in showy promise.
We drink her in,
forgiveness sweetly
on our lips.