Winter Thaw

And there is Vermont
Late April,

the trees naked,
snow melting

Sodden ground
overwhelms our shoes

as we climb down the river bank
to see what everyone

has come to see
To share in what the river

has swept
to the doorstep of our small town

A thing of ravaged beauty
that lies submerged

in the winter thaw
stuck on the branches of a downed oak

like a child’s large doll,
but only less human

or so we hope, 
as we walk in silent prayer

God, deliver us
from such a death

As if there is nothing
more cruel

than to be sent
before strangers

And by our death
to alter them