The Snow Scrim

Outside my parent's house
two crocuses strugled through
the bone white grasses
of February.
"Too soon!"
I whispered to them
while passing in a car.
I wondered why
nature had never
taught them a way
of retreat
when met by the
unrelenting cold and
burial snow.
These "laws without heart"
can test the faith
of those devoted
to the Way.
But I did see
that Denver
that day,
so steeped and shrouded
in the violent tradition
of the bloody west,
looked unusually
soft
behind the scrim
of falling snow.

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This page is managed by Fr. Raymond A. Bucko, S.J. of the Department of Sociology and Anthropology at Creighton University. E-Mail: bucko@creighton.edu Page Last Updated: December 1, 2001

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