The Sand Hill Review               http://www.sandhillreview.org 2011

Resemblances

On top of those low mountains the surprising snow lingers.

Here in the valley, beside the small stream, a snow

of almond blossoms. A congruence, then, between high and low,

or is it only the eye playing its old game of this is like that?

How much we’ve learned from these resemblances,

the white horses of the waves,

the white spume of their manes flying

behind their fierce, measured charge to the shore.

To make the image whole, we see, behind them, a flash

of the sea god riding his chariot.

And when upon us a bolt of lightning hurtles like a spear,

we think of the hurler and meet, for the first time, the sky lord.

We must give him a place on which to stand, and so, heaven.

And when the sweetness of spring softens our stern wills,

the Goddess comes sailing on her shell into the bay

of our wondering.

I know I have left out their dark brother, but he is never not here.

The mountain snow will melt.  The almond blossoms, already,

have fallen from the trees.

Nils Peterson