“Every now and then,” I think to myself
as I stand at the edge of the pond
in the clear winter air, snow sparkling
on the ice, and near the pond’s center,
skim ice giving way to smooth water,
as I take in the pines, and the way sunlight
dances with shadow through their boughs,
and how the far water mirrors them,
and how the silence almost makes me want to
hold my breath as the thought completes:
“Every now and then,” it says in hushed tones,
“there’s a moment like this
that makes all the rest of them worth it.”