Yellow Lunar Seed
There is a Time of Year lies yawning---
Stretching the Space between Seasons
Days---Weeks of Promise when,
depending on the Solstice
We stand between cold Dread and warm
Anticipation---
There is a Time of Year that takes
the plant Roots deep---
Makes its Moves from inner Signals
Cosmic Calls of ice-filled Lakes---
Frost---Cold---Wind---Snow and Rain
The Skies of November resemble a Day in March
When Clouds give no Comfort or
Promise of Warmth
Finally, winter loses Strength –
A Seed begins its brave invisible
Ascent to early Suns too pale for warming---
Only Faith supports our Skin and
Bones
Now chilled and blue with Longing
For spring, the winter’s Damage to
atone
That Time of Year lay shivering
While we, like Children,
short-sighted
And burning with Desire cannot wait
For howling, whistling Winds
To blow away the old and bring upon
the New
The autumnal Days of early spring are
rude---
They tease and taunt without Remorse
That Time of Year too short to name until---
Azure fills a Sky of cotton Clouds---
Jonquil Petals open with the Violet
Green Grass quivers with the Flights
of little Bees
Whose Legs are yellow Pollen laden---
Daffodil sits up with Hyacinth upon
the Hill
The Moth awakes to fly on parchment
Wing
The Seasons turn---Gaia smiles---naming
Spring.
©Kleomichele Leeds
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