March 27
The one way sign can point in any direction.
At day’s end I find myself looking to the east
down my street to the city’s end and mountains
above the shadowed valley flaring up
like the texture of your hand’s palm
seen under a microscope for the first time.
From here you can see the ridges but not the lines
that determine health, love, children, fortune,
retreat, duration. Only at a distance
does a line put up a compelling argument.
Tonight a spring flurry is coming and though
nothing will accumulate there is more
than one way to measure the countless departures.
The one way sign can point in any direction.
Translations from the English 
I love all the directions of this poem, Jeff.
Thanks Ann!
Thought of you instantly when I read the news. Tranströmer is gone, but you have such splendid memories to carry with you, and best of all, the propulsive spirit of his art.
Thanks SJ. We got another little snow flurry for today, fifteen minutes of it, and I’d like to think it came our way via Stockholm.
ah…..”the one way sign can point in any direction”
Says a lot about the choices we make in life. Love this idea.
So, even though it’s snowing in Boston this morning, again, I choose to look in the direction of crocus and daffodils — they’re under there, just waiting to pop up! 🙂
lillian
Yes, the crocuses are the most impatient of spring flowers. If they could pick up shovels and move the snow away they would. Though they’d probably prefer to have no arms but voices and yell at passers-by to shovel the snow for them.