The peak of
reign of night–
the winter solstice–
the time
when day shows just a squint of light,

and on come
rain and snow and wet,
and leaves have dropped,
so trees’ guise shows
oh so much like death,
and the season of the days we’ll get
when our inner souls and hearts
we sound into their depths,
while skin, flesh, and bones
can get their coldest.

But then,
if we but watch,
we’ll surely see
the segue sneaky in
to greater days,
even on the grayer days–

sun’s light
comes daily, bit by bit,
e’er earlier up
in our wee mornings

and later dusk
in shortening evenings,
though so subtle, it’s tough to notice it,

once we’ve come
through that hard, ordealy maze,
our bodies see
and feel
a whole new dawning,

to which we,
happier, clearer, and refreshed,
do rise,

our eagerest
for our now easier
fun and work,
in both of which
we’ll re-begin
and play our
very boldest.

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

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