Bethany Fitzpatrick
In Winter Today the geese are on the wing straggling east, in a v-less midwinter flight. I was hoping for a hint of spring, but they weren’t heading north. Today my youngest child curls within me, a soft nudge and a heartbeat, while my oldest waves a mittened hand and dives headfirst into a snow bank. Today the sun shines and the snow sparkles, but I can’t help but feel the years unspooling, an impermanence, even while held fast in the fist of winter. Today I can’t help but fear these fledglings flying from me like those erratic geese, even while one nests within my body and the other calls for me across the vast canvas of the yard.
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