There is a new word that speaks of our presence – polar vortex.
It is weakening and sometimes split in two
leaving snow on a row of gondoliers in Venice,
unexpected storms in Scotland and England,
but we are too busy with a crew of workers
felling a stretch of white pines, another one
delves deep into the soil to prepare
for the pouring of cement. But despite
the bitter cold, a bird with its two-note song
calls out – the voice of the embattled
earth, of wave upon wave of undulating
grass in the meadow, of wildflowers
on the breast of a high mountain just above
the boom of chalets, the music of migrating geese,
the old alignments of motion and grace,
of wonder and the holy practice of balance.
Marguerite Guzman Bouvard is the author of ten poetry books, two of which have received awards. Her poems have been highly published in literary magazines and anthologies. She has also written a number of non-fiction books. Her personal website is http://www.margueritegbouvard.com.