Midwinter

 

Frost lies white on the ground like my memories of snow
Or the Oak King’s processional cape in cactus times.
So few angels I have seen since then,
those days when booted mittened feet and hands
Spread wide in new snow Dance of Heavenly Joy,
and smells of mothers’ baking Pannetone signalled Holly’s end.
Now Mighty Oak is brought with the lightest brush of diamond dust
That drives us into winter coats I’d never have worn back home
Until the frost obscured the windows view almost till noon
Its four AM and the dark again grows short tomorrow light
But tonight the Sun is underground and dim, a seasons gloom
Its four AM and I am only now returning home alone
Having safely born upheld by friendships arms and firelight reminds
The trip around another turn of time.

 

CC