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.