Waxing poetic on thoughts, theory & the times
Yellow-faced dandelions push up
Obstinate to the cold that still hangs in air
That promises and serves frost still,
To dew drops and windowpanes,
Spring is here,
In an in-between, limbo of seasons,
Summer and winter, each hedging for the bigger presence,
This is the nature of the season,
Spring—mediator between hot and cold,
Light and dark
On this segment of the wheel of year,
All determined by the closeness
And felt warmth of one star.
This darkest night,
We long for light,
But wise eyes,
Will see it,
The burning of the ancient flames,
The distant stars,
We gift,
like diamonds,
meeting spots,
for hearts to see,
to feel the love,
that burns there,
still.
New,
For we have been 365 days around the the sun,
New,
For we are still here bathing in a star’s warmth,
New
Dissipating light,
Whistle of wind over frosted dunes,
The night it closes in,
As we bid an early farewell to the sun,
Hope remains for the morning still to come,
But for now it is the blanket of dark,
Ever surrounding,
Noticed by all the living,
That the change it comes,
As the Earth does pass her longest night,
without the sun
I am a night owl,
In the dark I am at peace,
But in the day I worry,
For my stars are out of sight,
But then I feel the sun’s warmth,
And remember,
This star burns our very beloved daylight
Feel the crisp cold against your cheek,
While the light of day burns overhead,
Warming the same spot,
it is a tug of war,
Between the sun and atmosphere,
Warm and cold both wanting to pull you near.
She of Letters 