Before the Storm

An early spring night, dark and clear and rich,

on the border of winter’s parting,

moonless, and the stars stand out,

hushed and silent, in this field of darkness, this stretch

of infinity’s universe above us, moving ever onward,

this night before the big storm,

the Nor’easter predicting snow, a foot

or more, and the strong gales of a winter storm,

but the night sky, clear and dark and rich, says no,

too calm, too clear, winter’s storms behind us,

so we nestle ourselves into our beds, content,

safely assured of spring’s return,

till rising, buffeted, the snow blown hard

against our windows shaking, and inches,

falling still, fallen and blown, building up,  

reminding us, again, of nature’s schedule,

nature’s time, her time unscheduled, unplanned,

not marked on a calendar’s day defined and celebrated,

nor predicted by a groundhog waking, scared and rushing back,

or even a night’s sky deceiving us, clear and dark

and rich, hushed and silent in infinity’s universe;

spring arrives as it does, in its own time,

winter leaving, when it’s done, leaving us

made small once more by her schedule, her time,

her power, free of man’s concerns and wishes,

man’s desires for what he cannot control, cannot have,

forced to remember his smallness, forced

to remember his place in infinity’s universe.