Thaw

Published April 11 2017

Striations of light stretching across the river’s skin the spines of trees bending towards the opposite sides of the bank
their reflections quivering below grass still mottled with snow.
I stand on the path deciding which way to go
inhaling the rawness of April air tinged with the coming thaw.
I stare down at a patch of grass pale and trampled as straw.
I feel just like those blades of grass flattened by winter
now suddenly exposed to Air and Light
wondering how soon they will begin again to thrive?
Will their greening be gradual or burst forth all at once?
Spring frothing on the fringes of the forest its freshness trickling into my nostrils
as I peel a layer off my trunk my jacket sleeve grazing the ground
my limbs suddenly lighter and free
feeling the Air throb all around me soothing my creaking spine.
I listen to the river flow no longer caring which way I should go
just grateful to be standing here listening to this familiar sound
that was buried beneath the snow
but still the river breathed beneath its frozen sheathe
like the blades of grass and the branches of trees
patiently awaiting the thaw.

Sylvie Kalenda
April 2017