By Patrick J. Walsh
Cold wet darts of ice lashed at my coat as I pushed a thick wrap of snow off the hood of my car.
The storm had come late to this long, weary winter, and its intensity seemed an almost personal affront to those of us who have had cause enough already for sadness and struggle during these difficult days.
Fortunately, the sleet portion of the storm wound its way to exhaustion as the morning hours faded into the afternoon, and I made my way to the park as the day neared its end.
And then, as I walked in the sunlight, the glory of nature’s wise progress traced its line on my mind and spirit.
Reflected off the clean carpet of snow, the light of the sun danced with a sparkling radiance, like a sprite in a tale once whispered by the very old to the very young.
And in an arc of water at the edge of the icy lid of the upper pond, the warmth of the sun opened a dappled window on the life of the fish and flora of the murky world below the surface.
The chill of the morning had given way to timid, tentative warmth; and in every yard of fading, melting snow there was witness to the passing of this long, exhausting winter.
As I made my way along my usual path, thinking of the progress of the day — from the sad, cold rain of morning to the hopeful, mild sunlight of the afternoon — I could not help but be overwhelmed by gratitude for the unfailing mechanisms of patience.
One small soul grateful for the unanticipated mercy of a warm afternoon in March, I make my way forward through hard days one short stride at a time.
The larger life of the park, meanwhile, moves on with a majesty and radiance that is amplified by the incongruity of weather out of time, and indicative of nature’s stoic resolve, in the passing of day to day, and season to season.
© Patrick J. Walsh
Beautiful !
ReplyDeleteThank you, Angel.
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