Winter Sun

author’s note:

An appropriate poem, I believe, as we prepare to leap into Spring.


WINTER SUN

Winter’s a good time for this grief

because the sting
of the merciless wind
can shock me out of a stupor
induced by this drag of emotion

and then, as I open out
I will see the sun
on the bare tree limbs
and look up
at endless blue heaven.
I don’t feel dead when I enter
such a glorious world.

And as I watch the intense gentle snowfall
of a gray day
I’m lulled into the subtler senses
and again know the soft nurturing fire
steady in my heart.

The long nights around Solstice
urged me to go deep.
And though I dreaded the work. I delved down
because I’ve learned
I can find light in the dark.

Yet despite these blessings
yesterday, I began to worry
this season would never end.
But today
as I walked through that sleeping forest,
the cold drops falling from the trees
awoke my dream
of a new life blossoming in Spring.

mythsteps · Winter Sun

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