January 31

for Albert Goldbarth

 

Far, in the deep Spring of Winter,

a birthday

made kindly and moist in its breeze

how the trees say:

Be still.

Be at peace.

There’s a knowing

in richer soils

how signs grow

when needed.

They bud early this year

for you

a promising life

so filled up with bloom

and all its has-yet.

May it come,

as always,

again,

it is the nature of things

to move

and become;

as regards relativity

disregarding our time

and place and whom

or why,

ever-readiness is all

of our conglomerate days.

N Filbert 2012