Pause For Poetry:
Michael Hawkes /69

An Early Thaw

A poem by Michael Hawkes

March 11,  2024

I sat soaking up the sun in our backyard throughout the day.
Like a god in Greenland, I surveyed the melting snow.
It didn’t trickle into rivulets and sparkling run away,
But sank as though exhausted into the ground below,
Leaving forlorn patches of gritty dirty grey
Where the older, deeper drifts seemed hesitant to go.

I wondered at the hungry Earth that could absorb it so
And marvelled at the forms it takes from steaming breath to snow,
But most of all I worried for its cataclysmic flow
Into the surging oceans not so distant there below.

Here beneath our feet the flows collect into a stream
That winds between the roots of trees to nourish, fill and flood the seas
That may threaten man’s existence lest we as one can stay
As resolute as King Canute to hold the tide at bay.

Meanwhile, gratefully exposed, the warm brown earth,
Littered with the debris of dead things and decay,
Seems to beckon and promise an imminent rebirth,
Inviting birds and squirrels to enjoin the great foray.

22/03/22 – Hawkes

Feature image: rorozoa on Freepik

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