Sunday, March 1, 2009

Sixty-Five degrees

It is such a miracle that the world can become warm after it's felt like a freezer for so long. I have to hand it to winter: if you weren't so depressing, spring wouldn't be so invigorating, amazing, joyous.

I stood outside of my apartment today, and from my yard (and even from my windows), I have a pretty view of Utah lake. Today the sun was warm and neighbors were outside being happy (because, after all, it's warm). On days like this the lake reflects the sky, and it becomes this unearthly band of color within the landscape.

The sun went away when I tried to take a picture, but still the warm air makes everything so enjoyable, even murky landscapes. It made me think of another Denise Levertov poem called, "What One Receives from Living Close to a Lake." It's a little corny but I still like it.

That it is wide,
and still - yet subtly
stirring; wide and
level, reflecting the intangible sky's
vaster breadth in its own
fresh, cold, serene
surface we can
touch, enter, taste.
That it is wide
and uninterrupted save by
here a sail, there
a constellation of waterfowl -
a meadow of water
you could say,
a clearing amid the entangled
forest of forms and voices,
anxious intentions, urgent
memories: a deep, clear
breath to fill
the soul, an internal
gesture, arms
flung wide to echo
that mute
generous outstretching
we call lake.

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