Read the Weather
When every wind begins to smell of spring,
remember: thawing rivers still run deep.
A path may flower brightly at its mouth,
then lose its name beneath the tangled vines.
Now is no time to leave the compass home
or drift wherever easy currents lean.
Keep patience like a map within your coat;
read every bend before you choose the road.
Let questions be the stakes around young trees,
so roots grow straight when restless weather turns.
Test offered fruit by seed and season both;
not every orchard keeps the sign it wears.
And when the rain has spoiled the planned-out day,
set jars beneath the eaves and save the storm.
Plant what can flourish in the softened ground;
let loss become the water roots can use.
Hope is the seed that waits beneath the frost,
unseen, but holding April in its heart.
It drinks the dark and gathers quiet strength,
then lifts a green reply toward the light.
For morning comes to those who tend the dark,
who keep one window open to the east,
and greet the sun with hands already sown.
