ASH WEDNESDAY

On this February morning,
not fully winter, not quite spring,
the palest lemonade-colored sun
rises weakly over the lake.
A still fog sits over the water,
trapping a ship in time just as
the frozen waters anchor it in place.
A waterfront bench entombed in
snow serves no purpose but to remind
us of a nearly past storm.
A good day to be stuck in time
on a fulcrum of faith’s calendar.
Let us take our cue from nature
and sit with this threshold day as it requires.