Saturday, December 11, 2010

Come Winter


The air is crisp,
the earth, a drum
taut against the cold.

From the east,
pale beacons shine
through birch and beech
oak and pine.

Darkened skies.
The seasons shift.
The sun stands still.

We slip towards Solstice
and the light,
and the Moon of Long,
Cold Nights.

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