A crack zigzags across the old sidewalk
And wrenches apart the hot concrete,
Exposing a tiny sliver of earth
That for years untold
Has known only crushing pain and darkness.
While above . . . days pass, weeks pass,
And Summer relinquishes its sovereignty to Autumn.
Leaves fall, scarlet and saffron and umber tears
Scurry and dance across the sad gray surface.
Revivified wings flap overhead, rain patters down.
A frigid gale rides in on the back of the North Wind.
Ice crystals settle in the divide, cold elbows
Pushing against the argentine walls
That are desperately struggling to hold together.
The frozen earth shivers beneath this fresh onslaught.
While above . . . days pass, weeks pass,
And Winter reluctantly surrenders its silver crown to Spring.
Lightning splits the sky, thunder rolls and rumbles.
A deluge pounds the sidewalk; a cool river races through the cleft,
Torturously prying it open to the warming world.
The raw earth nestled in the crack feels a pleasant stirring.
A tiny fledgling breaks its surface and stretches toward the sun.
Oaken soldiers flanking the sidewalk tip their glossy green heads
To watch the miracle of birth arising from the ashes of neglect.
The dandelion nods its golden head . . . free at last.
©️2023 jai
Image by Michelle Raponi from Pixabay
On the Fringe of Darkness 