Saturday, January 23, 2016

bar Jonas

As morning breaks,
I look to you, my God--
my vision shrouded by
a spinning veil of snow
lashed with spikes of wind

Today, Harlem is subdued.
The cheering sunrise hidden
behind the fog of cloud banks.
a lone brave car
slowly brakes
down the snow-striped avenue
lined with drifts of white.
The tracks below my window
are clogged with snow.
No trains run today.

My tree is standing fast against
the bitter wind.
Her branches shuddering
when the wind
whips with sudden force.
She is gilt in snow.
And she is beautiful.

A storm like this is deadly,
and causes such suffering.
It seems perverse to rejoice in it.
But nature demands
praise.
As she descends on
the habitat of man.
She is fierce,
and there is glory in her roar.