it was March third
Our days are warming up again and the sun is a welcome element changing moods from low to inexplicable brief joyful moments. As Jane Kenyon wrote, "it could have been otherwise".
I receive news about my daughter's good friend Don. A man who had a difficult life, but also a heart of enormous proportions, an old soul. He was found dead outside the place where he lived, on his way home. A diabetic seizure was determined as the cause. I got to know him over several years whenever I visited back east. Last June with the baby's Christening arrangements and the big reception, while the rest of the family was running around stressed out and snappish, he (as an honorary member) was a quiet, calming, and helpful influence. He was a sad man too. We recognized that.
"be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle" (Philo of Alexandria)
Sometimes I can believe that there are fallen angels. The ones that choose to be human, can't adjust, can't return. Maybe he was one. More and more scientists believe that we have a soul energy that never dies. I'd like to believe that too.
It was March third I came outside and saw
for the first time the buttonwood tree with last year's
leaves hanging in the wind like little hearts
and one or two crazy birds going mad with choices
in the hideous leftover snow and the slippery mud.
March the third. the branches were more a silver
than either green or tan, there was no fuzz/yet.
Gerald Stern (Sycamore, from "This Time")
