Mid Winter, Hibernation: (January 6th,2021)

In mid winter, I always shelter by A warm fire in my old dwelling place. I Compose new poems, for what it is worth. I think of spring's seeds buried under earth. I consider Creation's dark birthing room. Inspiration murmurs within its womb. In mid- winter, I note the white silence. And I absorb its curious presence. I select symbols from frozen moonlight, And from the star like solitude of night. My long, winter hymns are solemn and grim. Yet tinged with the things healing spring will bring. O I need these slow, quiet hours to hear Nature's gentle rhythms as they appear In the form of snowflakes, soft and sudden; Of eerie beauty and purest wisdom! I perceive the processions, and patterns Of the years, spread across this pale season's Shadows. I dream of blazing oracles, Where the present touches the eternal.