Winter Simplicity

I've been at my parent's house for a couple of days and there is so much winter and snow here. So much. I've begun to fear that spring will never arrive.

I read a bit of nature-themed poetry this evening and these two poems stayed with me.

Midwinter 
by John Unterecker 

At dusk, a great flare of winter
lightning photographed the bay:
Waves were broken scrolls.
Beyond Donegal, white mountains
hung in a narrow bas-relief frozen on sky.

Later, there
was sleet: trees down
on the Drumholm road; near
Timoney's farm, a frantic goose
pinned under branches.

All night
long, we spoke of loneliness,
long winter, while winter sang in
the chimneys.

Then the sky cleared and a marvel
began: The hills turned blue;
in the valley a blue cottage sent up
the day's first plume of smoke.
It gathered like a dream drenched
in frost.

The Well Rising
by William E. Strafford

The well rising without sound,
the spring on a hillside,
the plowshare brimming through
deep ground
everywhere in the field --

The sharp swallows in their swerve
flaring and hesitating
hunting for the final curve
coming closer and closer --

The swallow heart from wingbeat to
wingbeat counseling decision, decision:
thunderous examples. I place my feet
with care in such a world.