Mid Winter, Hibernation: (January 6th,2021)
In mid winter, I always shelter by
A warm fire in my old dwelling place. I
Compose new poems, for what it is worth.
I think of spring's seeds buried under earth.
I consider Creation's dark birthing room.
Inspiration murmurs within its womb.
In mid- winter, I note the white silence.
And I absorb its curious presence.
I select symbols from frozen moonlight,
And from the star like solitude of night.
My long, winter hymns are solemn and grim.
Yet tinged with the things healing spring will bring.
O I need these slow, quiet hours to hear
Nature's gentle rhythms as they appear
In the form of snowflakes, soft and sudden;
Of eerie beauty and purest wisdom!
I perceive the processions, and patterns
Of the years, spread across this pale season's
Shadows. I dream of blazing oracles,
Where the present touches the eternal.