Days are longer now,
birds sing sweetly,
daffodils sway brightly,
and a storm dumps four inches of snow
and a tree on our house.
On the road
the sun on the deadly ice is brilliant.
Life mixes its metaphors.
Besides the snow in the driveway
I also need to shovel off
my notions of what ought to be.
On lovely spring days there are pallbearers,
and blessings in my failures.
Life is not under my management.
It is free, and dappled, not pure.
Life is this, not something else.
Even God does not yet know
what's in store before unfolding in it.
I release my designs
and receive this day as it is.
It will be holy enough.
A high pressure region evaporates forecasts
today and into tomorrow,
each moment unfolding
as it does, without label or category.
Expect the strong front of the present moment
to disregard our expectations
and develop into what it does.
The afternoon commute
will be one. You will arrive.