Lenten Days on the Farm
The buds of almond blossoms
bud on the warming branch.
Drops from heavy rains
collect on the end of bare branches.
The ground is churned mud,
yet the grasses begin to grow
where once it was trampled
into softened, overturned farm dirt.
The winter calves are browning
a milkier hew as they grow.
Indebted to their mothers for their colors
they shed and grow their own fur.
The end of winter marks the beginning
of life, of resurrection.
On the farm I can see it
in subtle yet bright ways.
It is in this beginning that I follow
the age-old tradition of dying
when life springs forever around me
I die in order to remember.
Used with the permission of the author.