The First Day of Spring

The snow fell over a frozen patch of ice

and she traced her thoughts into it, the ice frozen blue

despite the sunlight.

The first day of spring fell over her window that morning,

a mystery anticipating its discovery.

She snuck out around five o’clock in the morning, climbing out

of her bedroom window and jumping from the roof

into a snow drift next to the toolshed.

She found her way through the thickets to a field

full of life yet desolate without the presence of humanity. 

Last winter she had done the same and she saw a moose, far away,

though the intensity and pressure of the animal’s eyes made her feel

right next to it.  She hid behind a bush that morning,

hoping the beautiful fate of a world almost lost by urbanity would reveal itself. 

A few moments later, a deer leapt over a hill and into sight. 

She took a mental snapshot of the image: a portrait of brown and white, twitching ears,

gentle yet intense eyes, that seemed to see her more than she saw the animal. 

She wanted to reach out and grab the energy that radiated from the scene,

but instead she chose not to disturb the deer, and watched it.