Uncertain Love Poem
Today I am falling in love with snow falling –
air moving water from one basin to the next –
while Moon Creek refuses to freeze.
I am falling in love with our modern life
transformed into a black-and-white photograph –
monochromatic woods of white snow and charcoal trunks;
our thoughts so much more basic this March than last –
where to find flour
how to wash hands to survive
which board game to play today.
I am falling in love with the mysterious intact orange
our boys found in a snowbank,
now halved on the deck,
an offering for orioles
who may never arrive.
I am falling in love with uncertainty,
I tell myself without buying it.
My mouth still goes sour
at each unknown we’re forced to swallow now.
Honestly, I am just falling into a holding pattern,
making a new space in my mind
where not knowing is allowed
(if not warmly welcomed).
This year the universe keeps pounding on my door
like the house is on fire,
desperately trying to wake me up,
shaking me in my bed until I will repeat after it:
you don’t need to know what’s next.
In fact, you may never get to know what happened.
All that’s left for you to know, to trust, to believe,
is that if you squint hard enough
there will always be something in your field of view
worthy of your love.
