the truth
enters
the room
like a cold
cold breeze—
sometimes
we’re ready
for a break
from the heat,
sometimes
it’s just
so
cold
*
it’s not
as if we
can make ourselves
fall in love
with the world,
but I’ve noticed
that when
I look up
it’s more
likely
*
it is
after all
the longest night
and even though
tomorrow
it’s only one
more minute
of light
it is one
more
minute
*
I have been praying
for openings,
and behind
every door
that opens
another door
*
with my one
minute more
I don’t know
what I’ll do—
but I hope
I remember
to
look
up
We are having a parallel moment, you and I. It was really chilly, but I still lay in the snow, used my minute staring straight up.
The detail about the extra minute is my favorite part, as it seems so miniscule but also so large. Clever title. As usual.
What a wonderful set of poems.