Telephone poles relax their spines,
sidewalks go under. The nightly groans
of aging porches are put to sleep.
Mercy sponges the lips of stairs.
While we talk in the old concepts-
time that was, and things that are-
snow has leveled the stumps of the past
and the earth has a new language.
It’s like the scene in which the girl
moves toward the hero
who has not yet said, “Come here.”
Come here, then. Every ditch
has been exalted. We are covered with stars.
Feel how light they are, our lives.
– Lisel Mueller
“Mercy sponges the lips of stairs,” I get a little chill every single time I read that line. We are moving about in a world transformed this morning. Even my crocheted trellis has turned into a wall of sparkling snowflakes. What else could possibly transform household string into a work of art?
“the earth has a new language.”