Looking out on a white and cold landscape,
I dream of spring, though do not wish to hurry it.
Since we are in January, I look ahead
while also following Janus’s glances back in time
towards my favorite Flower Hill Farm landscape tapestries
of spring twenty-twelve.
It truly is remarkable . . . experiencing the seasons . . .
imagining this lush, joyous and verdant breath of life . . .
now resting and dormant within the deepest protected layers
of crusty, cellular trunks and fleshy roots . . .
beneath the surface of frozen earth.