I know why….

  

 I know why

Winter is drab,

Bleak, grey, dismal,

Sad, dead. 

I know why

Living in the city 

Makes a walk through dirty streets 

Deny any colour to

Surprise and uplift,

Where Winter has died unto itself.

I know why there is no patience with crisp, golden days,

Told by joyous strangers in muddy boots,

Get out more

They say as if that is the answer when

Really it is prolonging the truth,

That here has no life and I’m best 

In central heated denial on built-up land,

In man-made, bill-paid 

Comfort.

I know why what they means is really,

Winter has slept all this while,

And to look upon a loved one in deep,

Innocent,

Exhausted rest

Is to view beauty unbound by living requirements.

Is to look at living in stasis,

And only then do the visions of creation begin to show.

Pine cone in Fibonacci perfection on my windowsill,

Opened up in the last light moments of the Slumber in blueprint infallibility,

Made in Winter and found on the day of Equinox

And I know why there is no fear,

Of muddy booted preachers,

Nor the awakening trees,

Nor even of the time of rest,

Because the blueprints are beautiful

And the story even more so,

And to hear them and

See them

in the darkest,

Most fearful days

Is to hold knowing like a feather of hope

 

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