Dave Bonta's "Thaw" starts with a small, sharp image: a dark stone that has melted the snow around it and now sits shining in its own hollow. The stone seems almost alive, as if it did the work of thawing by itself. The second stanza widens the view. Thaws feel sudden, the speaker says, and the lichens, wet with meltwater, glow an almost harsh green. "Lurid" is a striking word choice, because it makes the color feel a little feverish and unreal.
That sets up the turn in the last stanza, where the speaker admits to being feverish too. The question that follows, whether they might "burn a hole clear through to spring," links the body to the landscape. The speaker wants to be like the stone, warm enough to break through winter. The mood is restless and hopeful, with a touch of illness and impatience. The poem doesn't say whether the wish comes true, and the open question is part of what makes it feel so alive.