Of all the days, this is the one I send you.
Scrubbed by the ice storm Monday, drenched by the rains of Tuesday,
this Wednesday I send.
I send the intermittent sun, our winter sun, almost warm,
tired from its journey through the dark. Still strong enough:
For awe of him, the trees fell themselves
and lay their shadows across the white.
Of course, I send the shadows, too, formed from such
immensity of scattered light that they can dance in the teasing wind,
which, too, I send.
See how the bright bluster of the sun puts that hemming grey to shame,
and blue seems for a few sweet moments to have the upper hand
in the battle for the sky.
And loses again. The snow falls.
The wind whispers of the blizzard to come.
We are winter, welcome us. From us comes the spring.