This trace of
snow is not
enough, not
enough to ease
the long drought,
quench the earth,
quash the coming
fires. Too little, too
late in the age of our
realized ruin, yet
enough, just
enough to record
in bas-relief the
perishing evidence of
remaining wonders:
the fragile tines
of an early junco’s
foot, the soft and clever
paws of last
night’s raccoon. This
trace of snow is not
enough, not
enough to answer
any prayer we still
have the right to
make, but a call to
praise, a call to
praise every
vanishing beauty.
What a perfect little ode! It’s “just enough” to remind us how undeserving we are of this Grace — how we don’t (and maybe weren’t even made to) rightly adore this world, this precious, ephemeral, exquisite Life…
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Thanks, Steph! I envy you the full-throated winter I imagine you’re having there in Indiana. We’re sure hurting for snow here.
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Too much, too little … we cannot control yet our choices, patterns definitely contribute … I wonder sometimes if I am blessed or cursed to live during this on-the-cusp sort of environmental shift. I do my part (feels so tiny) and watch … I try to keep curiosity up, to temper despair. Our climate IS changing … we ARE witnesses.
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Indeed, holding that balance between despair, curiosity, and appreciation for what yet remains can be a challenge. Giving into the former may be most realistic, but it’s not compatible with enjoying what life still abundantly offers us.
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It seems your thoughts on climate change are much the same as mine, Cate. I so love seeing tracks in fresh snow. 🙂 -Russ
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It’s always a treat to see who visited while I was sleeping! I’m glad you enjoy it, too, Russ.
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