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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.
Copyright ©
Eric Ashford
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