15 December 2024

the darkest time of year


the birds flee swift 

their sights on sun

the trees shiver bare

their leaves all gone 

to dens beasts shuffle 

and sleep til spring 

my blood runs cold 

at what long nights bring 

I raise my arms

and stretch a strand

small fragile bulbs

from out my hand 

such weak defence 

against a foe

who gobbles day

and makes light go

those twinkling sparks 

remind my heart 

that though it seems 

like all is dark 

time will fly on

and in the end 

the dawn returns 

to rise again 

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