Sunday, December 2, 2012
Partly Cloudy With A Chance of Seeing
Low clouds slumped, lingering, leave a thin sheet
of white on glass, metal, bowed grass and asphalt
just wet and shimmering, no need for salt,
brace for winter closeout, a year end retreat
except in the vault of the soul’s heartbeat.
Advent, you’re here again, begin anew,
back to page one, annual re-booting
of what is meant or real or just fragment
of divine texting by star re-routing;
but first the penitence, the harsh review
the wardens of faith inflict to deny
any foolish expectation of clean,
cleared slate, repent or miss out on pardon
that is the point of birth in stable mean,
gift for which they insist we must apply.
Ignore the frantic forecasters warning,
a new cloud, undulatus asperatus,
rough waves perhaps disturbing the status
of science known or a sign, wind fresh forming
old verse, “Lo, he comes with clouds” upending.
It makes no sense this ritual attempt
to bargain with the firmament, appease
some imagined angry God with sorrow
and self-flagellation, a show to please
One who knows just how messy and unkempt,
adventitious, disorderly ever
the course of those created with free will,
not quite exempt from seasonal forces,
yet prone to agitate waters made still,
restless, testing the limits of never.
Adventure is a chosen risk the bold
begin with trembling wrapped in joyful hope
that aspiration can uncoil the rope
error ties to souls trapped, seeing only cold;
set out again for Love meant to enfold.
(Marthe G Walsh)
See more pictures of asperatus clouds here.