the killing frost of hate

 Spring Equinox '25

this Vernal Equinox slips up on me,

as if Spring decides to be sneaky,

to hold, to hold, and then to rush releasing

in little explosions of botanical surprise,

all of a sudden the redbud exclaims in blossom,

a sarvis transforms, 

as if overnight, into exquisite flowers,

many buds awaken,

though the beech leaves still hold the light tan of last year,

the beech takes its time to get up in the morning,

I rush the change in the garden,

risk planting nine tomato plants I started from seed,

the fear of frost often nearby,

two plantings of sugar snap peas,

two plantings of buttercrunch lettuce,

they're all up and prospering for now,

I push for a head start on the growing season,

a light rain came by today,

now the sky is blue and white,

with only some memory of gray 

in the cumulus billows,

though today is of balance, 

day and night, half and half,

our politics condemn us with one half 

thinking it is the whole,

and acting upon the truth of its one side,

many think they alone are the light

and feel that we are the dark,

and need to be forgotten,

that's what can happen with anger,

we throw ourselves into a zero-sum world

and imagine that the prison of our own ego

is somehow liberation,

that our indignation is righteous,

in the natural world light is coming into its time,

in the political world hate is replacing love,

denying love's very existence,

and that's tragic. . .

I savor the flowers before me,

and the incipient beauty the garden aches to release,

may we release our better selves,

rather than the killing frost of our hate.

by Henry H. Walker

March  20, ‘25