After Snow

After the snow melts

everything's still here,

but wetter.

You know there will be

spring, but first

there's just mud,

and things you should have

put away in the Fall

standing there,

wilted reminders.

Still, there's this expectation -

things will be purer,

cleansed of something,

the top layer of jadedness

gone, and their real selves

shown - the truer bicycle,

the exposed shovel,

the rake laid open.

It has happened to me.

I have shed some.

I look at myself in the mirror

and think, I wish I would have left

things nicer in the Fall,

but also, I think,

I am learning to love

what survives.