Uncovering the Praise

Snow plows rumble in the night. I wake up for tomorrow already applauding the sunrise. Sol is turning slushy ice to diamonds while unknown workers dig the world out again. Even before the light dances around the corners of eyelids paw marks kick-up, blue-chipped coruscations, bullet points on a surfacing whiteness highlighting what should be shown now in a natural order of revealing. For a while, the land is shoveled up, cleaned and rolled into paper-light reams. Whether the earth melts to mud or grows glaciers in backyards let us be grateful for the next round, of the laws of subsequent happenstance. The winter will be helped along with the steamy breath of labor and the prayers of those who only watch. We are cleaning up the dead spaces, constructing viewing platforms for the fur-fluffed and the wingers who survive for more new Lazarus moments still buried beneath tomorrow.