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A Snowy Day in April
It was only a sprig
of red berries poking through
a mantle of snow.
But something in their quiet defiance—
so small, so sure, so bold—
stopped me in rushing mid-stride,
as if beauty had broken
some sealed place inside me,
and light, unbidden,
had found a way in.
The world went quiet around me
except for the whispered ticking
of snow melting on my coat.
The berries didn’t beckon—
they simply serenely endured,
like a secret held in plain sight.
I didn’t kneel, but my heart did
and time loosened for a moment.
The air was full of watching.
Even the light seemed to listen.
My class had already started
and the prof raised his eyebrows at me,
so I told him about the berries—
he shot me a skeptical look,
but that didn’t matter a bit.
Some moments don’t explain themselves,
they speak in silence anyway.
I sat in the back smiling,
still picturing the berries
long after the lecture began.
Copyright ©
Roxanne Andorfer
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