A Time and a Season

Yesterday it snowed, persistently, futilely.

The ground has not yet frozen, so unless the snow

is unrelenting, a pause means the snow will melt.

It paused.

The snow melted.

Today the sun is shining,

and the grass is green.

There is Minnesota River marshland just down the hill from us,

so sometimes the wild turkeys, craving something civilized

in their diets, jerky-walk up the hill, disturbing traffic.

Unlike deer and raccoons and skunks, turkeys seem to

navigate through traffic without getting hurt. Maybe it is

their slow dithering that gives motorists time to avoid them.

It is time to replace the mowing deck with a snow blower.

"Are you sure you are through mowing?" the mechanic asked.

I said I was sure, not because the grass might not grow again,

or because the leaves will not pile up in eddies,

but because somebody has to take charge of this season

and declare it to be something; not everything. Not a new

season every day! Snow and sun and color and turkey walks!

There is a time for everything; some of it under the sun.

Some of it under the snow. But best, one after the other.

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