this winter light.
********
with no snow yet, at least nothing measurable,
grey skies are reflected in still-open running water,
grey skies are reflected in still-open running water,
grisaille and umber grasses at bank edge.
winter is my season: the cold grants me permission to layer in warmth and colour.
i look to the light, the solstice tilt a mere month away.
when others are complaining of lack of daylight,
when others talk of their minds giving way to the dark and depression,
i find my spirit so light....
my heart is no longer heavy and i find my joys in the love given so freely to me,
love i find equally easy to return fullfold.
although my writing tends to lean into pensive introspection,
a shift of my soul brings me into rightfully loving who i am now,
breathing in, deeply, tranquilly.
i know now what i did not know then.
i love now in ways i did not love then.
********
winter is my season: the cold grants me permission to layer in warmth and colour.
i look to the light, the solstice tilt a mere month away.
when others are complaining of lack of daylight,
when others talk of their minds giving way to the dark and depression,
i find my spirit so light....
my heart is no longer heavy and i find my joys in the love given so freely to me,
love i find equally easy to return fullfold.
although my writing tends to lean into pensive introspection,
a shift of my soul brings me into rightfully loving who i am now,
breathing in, deeply, tranquilly.
i know now what i did not know then.
i love now in ways i did not love then.
********



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