the poem from my pocket

When you can't find the poem

you want, the one that travels

out to the frozen river

at dusk, and listens

for the first crack

of ice breaking

apart, revealing veins

of pewter and white

in the dark, that moment

when meaning opens, a current

under the rigid surface

loosening, beginning to pull

the world along

into the first days

of spring, into the question

that answers everything - seems

to answer everything - 

when that poem

will not be found, you must

celebrate its small life

with another

 ~ Wendy McVicker
If you are not fortunate enough to have this poem handed to you in passing with Wendy herself, it can be found in the collection A Ritual to Read Together: Poems in Conversation with William Stafford.