Reds and yellows emerge within willow bark

  as the first real snow comes shortly before equinox.

In the same way the colors of sunrise slowly infuse

  windy gloaming skies of sleepless nights.

Warmly beautiful, yet unwelcome is the evidence

  that tenures have ended with unmet expectations.

Dreams finally reign when it is time to rise.

  Thick snow breaks branches unfurling new leaves.

Will unsettled hopes and desires thus persist

  until moments before life force itself releases?

Shards of dropped glass shine gloriously

 as melting runoff carries all kinds of breakage...somewhere.

The seasons appear to succeed regardless of success,

  divine nature knowing neither time nor judgment.

The day and the unknown arrive with me present,

  at least as real as the snow, the dawn, and spring.

~

That I can perceive the reds and yellows of willow bark

  is enough to know that we both are extant, if not why.