By John Grey

What Was and What Is To Be

“What happens now?”
after everything melts
After winter,
the drag, the hibernation,
the fall of man,
after the soil re-knits
and the frozen pedestal comes down.
after the reunion of robin and worm
and the return of the grackle?

Instead of snow.
a pulse.
Crocuses, transfiguration,
a fresh new cadence for bones,
beginnings that do not end
with the buds and spring showers.

For four frozen months,
I did not know you.
Now I take your hand.
Your lips impress healing
as a first step to passion.
Everybody is trying out their wings,
even those without.

So no more silent landscape.
A river is cutting through the ice.
And what is after hacking
but soft words,
beyond frostbite but fingers touching.
The new world is out there.
Fall to your knees if you wish.
But just don’t look away.

John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published in New Plains Review, South Carolina Review, Gargoyle and Silkworm work upcoming in Big Muddy Review, Cape Rock and Spoon River Poetry Review.  He has been published previously on Fourth & Sycamore.

Crocus photo taken by David Nilsen, 2013.