vitalwholeness

What call this untimely splendor
expected ’round the birth
delayed but not forestalled
arriving on the edge of the thaw?

It is called holiday and break
by children with their sleds
and parents armed with mugs
of steeping hot chocolate

It is called work by those who clear
the white crystals from the ground
or clear it to serve in ways
hidden to us, the happily homebound

It is called strange by those
who walk on sands warmed by the sun
or those who live a state away
and wipe sweat from their brows

But I call it a reminder
that the world does not spin
on my timetable of weather
convenience or circumstance

The splendor appears when it will
and what we call it
neither hastens nor delays
its perfectly timed arrival