Just below the quiet winter earth,
a storm of energy is brewing.
Yet like the wild electric fury
of life beneath my skin,
I hardly consider its tilting, rushing power.
So, placing my palm upon the ground, how is it
I cannot feel the creative pulse beneath its somber face?
Exploding divisions, multiplications,
a torrent of living maths I know is there but cannot see,
bound together in miraculous synchronicity.
But not so long from now, vivid shoots of green,
the fecund growth of Spring, will prove again;
That heaving beneath my feet there lies
an infinite, broiling lake of life.