Resurfacing

There's nothing bleak about Spring;
for that you need a good hopeless Winter day,
where the light slips away
to hide in the grey gloom.

The woods fill your steps in pine needle silence
and effigies of crows
are statues on branches
barely turning heads
as you pass below.

Fields of dead grass
invite you to leave
without a glimmer of hope;
lakeshore mud
clogs your boots resisting passage.

Cold water rises from the stagnant depths
past the hips and into
the quivering spot
in the small of your back,
giving pause where once
irresolute despondency
sent you hoping for a quick and painless ending.

Stand there, frozen in a step,
dulled but awake.
Under the surface
just in front of you -
a brief rainbow of scales
that twitches away.

There! Alive!
The world calls to you;
the pale sky, color of cream
nourishes your spirit.
The lake enlivens your senses
you feel your clothes cling cold to your skin.

You erupt in a fit of giggles, chuckles -
roaring laughter at yourself:
standing soaking thinking
the world owes you everything
when all you needed
was a glimpse of eternity
in the scales of a rainbow.