Drenched Thoughts Poem by Deb Panda

The summer will be; down the wintry moon-
For the crowded spirit, filled with filth;
Of fear, of loss, virtually disown,
In arrival of the winter in my soul.
Young; for the soul will be tired,
For the young heart in compact chamber-
To smile for the father, gifted him
In a late winter spell; in drenched thought.
For this soul will be heavy and embraced;
To lift the lagged spirit, pitched high,
Down the passing rain, of swamps & hills-
Seeking the vanished hand of her will.