roses, sunset, 12/15
Days shorten, march toward the darkest time,
shine, shine, shine, day into night.
Shorter days give way – in due time –
to the light, the coming of light.
I will awaken a little bit on that day. You will, too.
We take our place in the marching of the years, the millennia,
yes, you and I, marking our place in time with the creatures of the forests,
the dancing holy ones –
those folks marching to plant again in spring.
Something in us, something in them, is jarred to life again when the light returns,
lengthens the days,
makes us murmur at the quickly passing life we have lived, we are living.