By Saoirse Pira
I want to tell you how winter stayed too long
sealed the world into its endless night;
we forgot that we had ever known
a morning not this shade of white.
I won’t pretend the season was a gift.
The birds left and I understood
But something in the air has shifted—
The light does what the light does: good.
There’s spring in my step, and it’s summer again,
and we’re anchored in that warm delight.
It’s a prayer I say before I sleep, then
wake to find the world remade in light.
You see, the earth does this. It always will.
It breaks, it opens. It opens, still.
Featured Image: Toby Dossett