Winter Poem

​Yesterday the severe cold snap broke. Within the span of 48 hours, we went from 24 to 45 degrees. Our robin, sparrow, squirrel, rabbit neighbors put in an appearance.

We missed them during the frosty temps and were so worried about their survival. But now we're happy!

This evening, in my joy, I wanted to commemorate 2022.

A standard retrospective felt limited to the human story so I wasn't sure what I wanted to say.

To reduce harm, in the past, I’ve tried to unplug from worldly goings-on (i.e. Google News and the NYT) but I never lasted long.

This year, I did it without even trying. Andy Fisher’s Radical Ecopsychology course in the spring transformed Steven and my life.

I've always looked upon Mama Gaia and all their inhabitants as kin. But in Andy's class, I got it. You know what I mean?

The human story became just one of the many stories that unfold in the larger story of life.

Because of it, it lost some of its significance.

And because of that, the other stories--like our bird neighbors'--came more to the fore and the human story receded just enough to create some needed breathing space.

So, instead  of writing about this year's events, I gave myself over to the more-than-human world and the following poem fell out of my heart and onto the digital page.​
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Winter

A year-end poem
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Now we are riding the slowly rising arc of sunlight,

And yet descend into the earthen belly,

Warm beneath the cloak of winter’s heavy burden.

Ascent, descent, night from day don’t follow in a line or in a round.

Nothing in the world rests in a scale of rising here and lowering there.

The world is rolling, glowing, growing in waves and pulses,
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Intermingling, interbeing like a ball of yarn or cluster lightning.

What is here is there. What is new is ancient.

​And nothing was ever neat or categorical.
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