THE SHIFT TO WINTER TIME

The shift
to Winter Time. . .

a stiff
adjustment
when bliss of habit
(or maybe just encrustment)
that’s begot
more offspring
than a rabbit,
must we
excavate painstakingly
and kiss
goodbye, (dagnabbit!),

for as we
check
our wrist
to tell the time,
we see
confusion winds
anew,
and that our toes
may soon turn blue
as the summer sun
our company does flee
with flocks of geese
toward warmer climes,

and we can only
make the choice
to move more slowly,
ponder through
the reason and the rhymes
present from prehistory
that will ever
to the listening hearts and minds
stay in earshot,
and reliably in view.

And when we pause
in our long pondering,
we can gaze up
to stars
with whom we’re wintering,
the fixed ones and the wandering,
and muse about those, too.

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This entry was posted in Autumn, Poetic Musing (Longer Poems), Poetry, Seasons, Winter and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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