Poem by Rebecca A. Durham

May 15, 2023

Be Still, Mere Molecule

The obvious storms coax secondary revery
	frigid enkindling
fitful forests
	trumpet radial shadows

then at long last the ice recedes
	and the first bird-wakes ripple the open water
now receding from the clutch
	of winter’s first currency, cold

cold that held the air sub-silent
	against the mountain chickadees’ chatter
and now in their dapple chat
	we hear the ascension of spring

warm-aspect shrubs appear empowered
	grass-thin leaves venture out

cold night cuts away the artifice
	residuum of persistence, this ice
	that regrows as matter slows
hydrogen atoms bind into a hexagon
	space increases
	and density decreases

ice crusts the liquid
	loosely bonded and spaceless
waters are ablaze with a cottonwood wind
	be still, mere molecule, mere matter
be still despite whirring valences

buds thrash against cerulean streaks
	the equinox picks apart stuck snow
finds the ground tilt-warmed
	waiting for the thaw

About Rebecca A. Durham

Rebecca A. Durham—poet, botanist, and artist—is the author of the award-winning poetry books Half-life of Empathy and Loss/Less. Originally from the deciduous woods of New England, she also calls the coniferous forests of NW Montana home.

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