2 Kan
Yellow Lunar Seed
There is a Time of
Year that yawns –
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 –Rain
and Snow
When skies of November resemble a Day in March
Dark 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
There is a Time of
Year that shivers
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
There is a 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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