WINTER SOLSTICE

It's snowing outside in the gray,

brief light of the shortest day.

In my mind the cold of the

sleeping land.

Dark the trees rise from the white

of the land to the white of the clouds,

dark my thoughts in these days

of the dying year, veiled

the lanscape of the mind

with a burial shroud.

The year is dying, a light in

the darkness will grow

from the candle in the midnight

to the blaze of the late spring Sun.

Yet no rebirth for us with thoughts

in the cold under the frozen earth

where our hearts lie.

Gray the light of the solstice day
as the snowflakes fall.

Cold my feet that forever

walk the too soon disturbed ground.

21.12.2018