Confluo

The spring melt loosens all of winter’s resolutions and the day flows with forgiveness as if March

is really the start of the new year.

Resolved: to be free

like a bank of snow dissolving in forty, forty-five, fifty degrees.

All the rivulets quicken into new form which now changes endlessly across textures that make legitimate music.

A new season shows possibilities of self and what is real makes a broad span into the quickening current.

~~~~~

The morning leans away, finding

more of itself with each hour

like a cat moving into the shape

of sun on the floor—a response yielding a whole stretch, not a decision but a body turning naturally

in the expansive world.

While some count their blessings,

the world defies counting, pulses through a small string of numbers

or line of words, making a new glyph of its own expanse, over and over,

in the infinite course of time.