Walking to Work

It is impossible to ignore the shimmer of spring
as the cumbersome layers of dark days fall away,
fracturing the illusion of all that I have left behind.

Each new day is vacant of the painful assaults
and bruises of expectation,
that plundered joy and the logic of abundant love.

Let the brusque wind and blithe April showers
divide my heart from the mind that saddled me
with heavy thoughts of the unkindness of the world.

It is the Beloved that has arrived
in the yellow cup of the daffodil
and the delicate edges of the short passion
of each purple crocus
along this gentle path
walking to the work I must do.