We Are Here...Perhaps

On this last day in the month of February, in this second week in the season of Lent, this poem by Tom Hennen seems very....hopeful and familiar.

Late in The Season by Tom Hennen At the soft place in the snowbank Warmed to dripping by the sun There is the smell of water. On the western wind the hint of glacier. A cottonwood tree warmed by the same sun On the same day, My back against its rough bark Same west wind mild in my face. A piece of spring Pierced me with love for this empty place Where a prairie creek runs Under its cover of clear ice And the sound it makes, Mysterious as a heartbeat, New as a lamb. "In the Late Season" by Tom Hennen, from Darkness Sticks to Everything. © Copper Canyon Press, 2013.