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The Day the Soul Agrees to Inhabit the Body
by Mira McEwan

The moaning of a door
opening and closing
slowly, cold sun creaking

the topmost layer of icy
water. Naked trees caressing
the air, circling the lake,

branches willing upwards.
Crab apples fallen
and swallowed by

frozen earth; so much
unexplained joy. Wispy
clouds beguiled by the

sun, shadows darkening
against themselves in
iridescent grief. Intention

stuttering, weeping. The gift
of feeling familiar. One
must lift the weight and

bear it. Solitary,
but not quite alone.