That’s the way it is 
When it snows and then rains on top of the snow and the
     rain freezes
And then the snow melts underneath
And you go crunch when you walk
As the thin layer of ice cracks underneath.
And that’s the way it is 
When the skinny branches of the saplings that were just
    planted last week
Turn into crystal sticks.  
And that’s the way it is when the hardiest of the oak tree’s
    leaves,
Brown and tough,
Still hang on, not ready to yield
Like the old ladies and an occasional man,
Who sit waiting, with my mother, brown and tough,
In the parlor, where she lives.
And that’s the way it is when I fill up with sadness, fear,
     hurt, sick of being human
And then the river overflows
And it is quiet again.  

— Sheila Peltz Weinberg  

Excerpt from her book:  “Surprisingly Happy:  An Atypical Religious Memoir”