The branches are bare
after the scouring wind,
just a few strays left
against the blue sky
in the slant of sunlight
after the long storm.

Winter is coming,
days shorten
and long dreams
begin their approach.

When night comes
we find our way
close to the fire,
the flames speaking
of what’s hidden
as the dark returns.

 

 

9 Responses

  1. As someone who has a difficult time with darkness, this poem reminds me of the sacredness of the night. Thank you, Don.

  2. A perfect poem for the mood of today–short time of light, chilly, cold, gray, and yet the welcome reminder of mystery. Thank you.

  3. I too have challenges with accepting the dark as the friend it can be. However “the long dreams begin their approach” fills me with some hopeful acceptance of the transformation that my hunger seeks.

  4. Ah yes, Don – Winter! The time we get to, willingly or not, discover “what’s hidden.” Thanks again, dear Bard-friend!

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