Crisply the bright snow whispered,
Crunching beneath our feet;
Behind us as we walked along the parkway,
Our shadows danced,
Fantastic shapes in vivid blue.
Across the lake the skaters
Flew to and fro,
With sharp turns weaving
A frail invisible net.
In ecstasy the earth
Drank the silver sunlight;
In ecstasy the skaters
Drank the wine of speed;
In ecstasy we laughed
Drinking the wine of love.
Had not the music of our joy
Sounded its highest note?
But no,
For suddenly, with lifted eyes you said,
“Oh look!”
There, on the black bough of a snow flecked maple,
Fearless and gay as our love,
A bluejay cocked his crest!
Oh who can tell the range of joy
Or set the bounds of beauty?
Sara Teasdale
I chose this poem because I am always a seeker of the good in the moment. Winter can be bleak and dreary, and yet, if we are mindful and pause and take the time to notice, there are many joyous moments, glimpses which can create sparks of joy within us. The beauty of the winter bluejay, a precious moment of creation, Teasdale suggests, can surpass anything in the moment.
Let’s remain aware of moments such as this and drink them in.
Jacky