三月。我开始
期待冰雪消融。清晨
大地，古老的无信仰者，仍然结着冰霜
鼹鼠们已经拱着它们的
低温铸件，几个月来
掩盖在雪松阴影里的地面
还没有变柔软，雾气，夜复一夜
缓慢地，在枝叶和茎秆上
堆砌出错综复杂的凇花，
但随着日照渐长，好消息的牧师，
对着叶子和树枝宣讲福音，
他摆着巨大的手势，从灰色中召唤出绿色。
栒子树上迸发出珊瑚色的针刺。
一只蜜蜂，正寻找着白石楠花。热切的柠檬黄色
的附子花灼灼其华，贴着地面
像兴冲冲的小脸。番红花冒出
一只紫色的小手，这儿，那儿，
就在我站着的门阶上，我自己的脸渴饮着热
和光，像蓓蕾欢迎复苏，
我举起手来，也，准备为转变做一个示意的手势。
March. I am beginning
to anticipate a thaw. Early mornings
the earth, old unbeliever, is still crusted with frost
where the moles have nosed up their
cold castings, and the ground cover
in shadow under the cedars hasn’t softened
for months, fogs layering their slow, complicated ice
around foliage and stem
night by night,
but as the light lengthens, preacher
of good news, evangelizing leaves and branches,
his large gestures beckon green
out of gray. Pinpricks of coral bursting
from the cotoneasters. A single bee
finding the white heather. Eager lemon-yellow
aconites glowing, low to the ground like
little uplifted faces. A crocus shooting up
a purple hand here, there, as I stand
on my doorstep, my own face drinking in heat
and light like a bud welcoming resurrection,
and my hand up, too, ready to sign on
for conversion.
“Revival” by Luci Shaw from What the Light Was Like
