Life gets tougher toward the poles.
Take the arctic:
Nothing there grows tall,
Reaches more than ankle-
Grasses lie low,
Even the trees crawl.
Craftiness is required
To keep alive.
The thaw
When it comes
Is brief,
Seeds must be ready,
No time for spring,
No slow gathering of intent,
No prefacing,
Summer roars in,
A torrent, a storm, a flash-
Of blossoming.
The ones that survive
Act as if it were
A once-
Event
As if there were
Never to be another.
Just so
We fell upon each other.
The Gift of Experience
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Rebecca Kavaler