February 23, 2010

last Tuesday in February

and it’s raining, predictably. These past weeks, my front door 
has swollen so much I’ve had to use my whole body weight
just to close it. Then, too, is the disproportionate number
of hours I’ve spent sleeping, wooed by the soft, somnolent
hums of winter. The metaphors are not lost on me.
Strength and surrender: this is how a life must dip and crest,
our fervent plans posing, occasionally, an ill match for reality.
How what we’d thought would be a race begs, instead, for rest.
Or what we'd pictured needing pause in fact requiring more force.
Sometimes the way to stay on track is to wander off the course.