Font Color='#880000'The Cycle Of Winter/Font
Above this covered place the north wind plays;
Her frigid breath bids fall its last goodbyes;
What comfort lingers here, retreats with days,
While pallid beams ascend on piercing eyes.
Her shadows stir fell warnings in the skies,
As winds rush eagerly to fill cold graves;
Her fingers grabbing leaves, as autumn dies,
To crush all hopes in grottos and dank caves.
Her tears, so cruel, lash down; her fury raves
As desp'rate wooded limbs catch shiv'ring colds,
And tears each sweat soaked frozen bough that braves
To bear her vengeful rue - no reason holds.
Her wheeping howl of fury further sews
Her cries, but sudden anguish summons snows...
As midnight flakes fall startled all around,
Could lolling dance bring hope for winds' sojourn?
The millions softly play embraced to ground,
Soft crystal shimmers sigh to woo the morn.
Wind's claws grow dull; her cool caress feels worn;
Her frozen breath, at dawn, belays to blow,
And drifts so soon afar that hearts might warm
These furrowed brows: woods carved in ice and snow.
No tracks may tread this place, no maps can show
Such buried treasures that her hands have found;
Where beauty also wends (high spirits know)
Soft tendrils breathe - just barely scarce in sound -
And hold cruel Winter's blade from frozen air,
That beauty might reveal what beauty's there...
Until these snow drenched groves step out from shade,
Where deeper cast they find descent to dread,
The earth, from red to white, whose winds have made
Like near a tomb, shall lie while warmth lies dead.
And sleeping blooms ere lost will find their bed,
Where hopes of yearned and yet yearned love still lay,
And rested love may stir to raise her head
So soon recall her place and fly away.
These winds will never heal by Winter's sway,
But call the sun to beg for her bright hand,
That flowers laugh aloud while rivers play,
And life may soon make claim to lifeless land.
So longing light the world grows darker then -
But destined to release our Spring again...
-December 15 - 20,2005