Sweet Heat

Between the green of spring

And white of winter—

A subtle splinter

Of time—God’s trees revive.

This time of sweetness starts

When maples waken.

Then sap is taken

And heated on a stove.

The heat refines, but sap

Should cook no hotter.

I watch the water

Escape in clouds of steam.

The steam and scum arise;

The dregs keep sinking.

This starts me thinking

About the dross in me. …

 

A sweetened syrup can

Come after fire.

And God’s desire?

To make me pure and sweet.