Thin Ice
Every sweet thing that happens seems doubly sweet these days because of the times we’re living through. Poet George Bilgere, who with his sister Merry Bilgere has created Poetry Town (my favorite daily poem site on the Internet), is featuring a poem of mine on Saturday, February 8th.
This was something I’d been wishing for but didn’t dare to hope for! I love the poems George chooses—and now he’s chosen one of mine. You can sign up for Poetry Town here. (Scroll to the bottom of the page. It’s free.)
One of the difficult things for me about moving from my native California to this snowy and unfamiliar place is that I’ve developed cataracts in both eyes that make it dangerous for me to drive at night and fearful about walking in dark places without a sturdy companion by my side. I’ve been working hard at increasing my bone density—and minimizing the risks of falling—with a newish pharmaceutical that gets very high marks, doing Pilates twice a week and ya-di-ya, doing everything I can to try not to ever again break another bone.
In a few weeks, I’m scheduled to have cataract surgery, which many friends have assured me is a piece of cake: first one eye and then, two weeks afterwards, the other. Supposedly I’ll never have to wear corrective lenses for distance again—and if everything goes as planned, I’ll still be able to read without glasses at fairly close range.
What will I see when the clouded lens is lifted, replaced with one providing clarity? Will I see my face, my soul. my loved ones, the world-- the mystery of life and death, colors brighter than they've ever been, the hard knots of fear falling away at last--the flower released from the imprisoning bud, the petals opening, the center gleaming with nectar? What will I see when I can once again see in the dark, when my car's headlights will allow me to travel these roads that snake through stands of trees, past dimly lit houses and shadowy lakes? When everything that keeps me from seeing clearly is cast away, will wisdom lay itself upon my eyes, fluttering down from the tip of the surgeon's knife?
Copyright ©️ 2025 by Barbara Quick
Despite the political nightmare, the world outside my window on this mid-winter day is just as beautiful as it's ever been. The snow is playing catch with the sunlight and shadows of the bare branches moved by the wind. Herds of clouds are migrating across a sky that's bigger than anything else, a shade of blue so tender that love and hope come flooding into my heart again.
Tight little blossoms are waving their promise of pink petals, spring’s confetti getting ready to swirl onto the stage and vanquish the sense of existential dread.
I belong to this dance company.
Make me as tough as the rhododendron that gestates its flowers all winter long, keeping them ready to burst into beauty when this place on Earth tilts closer to the sun and its nurturing warmth that’s the birthright of all living things.
Let me use what I have to stand up for what’s right and stand up against all that is heartless, greedy and wrong.
What better way to call out bullies than to reach into my quiver, take aim and let fly a flock of freedom-laden words?
