The sky is light,
But the frozen earth
Darkens into twilight.
Overhead, branches interlace
Against the deepening blue.
Winter lingers into March;
Snow lies in dirty heaps
At the edges of the road.
Between day and dark, between winter and spring,
We are beings in transition, moving from this dormant earth
Into whatever realms may be, or to oblivion.
Does it matter?
The day moves through crystalline shadow into night,
Signed by the elegant hieroglyphs of trees.
The dirty snow gives way to the buds of the maple.
God, if you are God, surely you live
In the transitions of our lives,
And we are your fingers in the earth.