Winter
"For the illusion that we have not lived in Vain"
Winter begins its journey into seasons less harsh,
fading, passing from the tendrils of cobwebs
created from the long nights and freezing rain.
Ah, gone at last, we seek the renewal of spring
and cherish the buds of our own rebirth;
awakened into a world gone slightly less mad
simply because we can crawl out from under our
heavy coats, our stiff joints and sluggish thoughts.
Summer will yet bring warmth,
welcomed at first, then stifling as we labor,
like penance for the promise of payment,
in fall's gold and yellow endings.
Daze are long and lazy only for the poet;
Soon fall's abundance rests in larders
full of promise for winter
--a time to reflect and see--
has the passing, this time, made a difference?
We remain relentless, as is the folly of wars;
fought by each of us to cast out our daemons,
or by self righteous, patriotic bands of zealots
bent on saving a world whose only curse
is humanities undying need to proclaim...
"Hooray for our side."
Wars rage, men bluster, children cry,
and in the end
there is promise only in the endings
never in the fighting.
Cursed by our need for meaning,
too often, we fail to see
Winter's glory...
May you find peace and love this holiday season...
and appreciate the glory which is YOU....
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