February 2, First Thaw

There’s a smiling child outside in the sun today again.

Stomping around in the mud, he’s so old, but he never grows up.

Yet the plane above me is already rusting

and icicles give up the eaves over and over,

while in the park by the lake our jackets fall unzipped,

Smiling children run through the mud and it’s bright.

enough to hold my heart to myself and say

a prayer again.