First Day of Spring

It certainly felt like the first day of spring today. Herself and I went for an afternoon ramble and serendipitously found ourselves exploring an old trail no longer found on the official map of the park. On the plus side, we got to watch an otter fish off the edge of the ice there in the foreground. On the minus side, we got to watch a rescue helicopter come to the aid of someone on the mountain there in the background. (Update: I am sorry to say I just learned it was not a rescue but a recovery we saw. Two young hikers fell to their deaths on the mountain. Unfortunately the site I linked to above also provides this grim tally.)


The present is always dark.
Its maps are black,
rising from nothing, 
describing,

in their slow ascent
into themselves,
their own voyage,
its emptiness,

the bleak, temperate
necessity of its completion.
As they rise into being
they are like breath.

And if they are studied at all
it is only to find,
too late, what you thought
were concerns of yours

do not exist.
Your house is not marked
on any of them,
nor are your friends,

waiting for you to appear,
nor are your enemies,
listing your faults.
Only you are there,

saying hello
to what you will be,
and the black grass
is holding up the black stars.

from Black Maps, by Mark Strand