Can't help it.

i can't help but think
we are reaping the harvest
of our pruned limbs,
months of freezing skin,
now, with the changing seasons
we thaw and tangle together,
and yesterday, in the park,
i repeated to you
the line in the book
about the ebb and the flow,
how each painful cut into the heart
opens hollow space
to hold more joy

i have never understood life
as much as i do right now