Utopian Promise
By Jayne Bullock
Amid gray-white patches of melted snow,
acres upon acres of ebony soil
await winter's solar warmth.
Clods and clumps of latent black earth
absorb warming sunrays and icy snowmelt.
The icy water is the beneficent life blood
and seeps into the earth's core.
Straw stems and stalks from the bygone summer
sparsely speckle barren, dormant land.
Their existence and renewed life dependent
upon sturdy roots sheltered in the silent, waiting earth.
Rain, the life-giving breath, rejuvenates the land.
Dormant land and living creatures await the promise
of renewed life into lush, green beauty.
All await the ritualistic preparation –
fulfillment of summer into fall,
winter into spring,
birth unto death,
beginning unto end.
It is an unending, repetitious cycle of destiny.
From year to year, eons and beyond,
it is the utopian promise of life.
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It is wonderful to think of a utopian promise, but more realistic to see life as a life-and-death struggle with a few moments of ecstasy.
Ron
budd
George