Winter solstice

bring nature home.  In the folds of your cold wetness I lay my arms down.  Lets call it quits for another season. It is the time of diminishing senses that once, filled me with a hankering for a sweetness outside myself.  Dust rose ashes are being swept aside as I prepare.  Awakening , within awakened is a gallantry that would rival Joan's brave heart. My horses at the ready following in the heat of supination.  Grass marshes flattened, down trodden, many boots have trodden upon this threadbare rug, I call myself.  I bottomed near the abyss.  Now I tread softly a new path, but I am not raw and open as if woken from slumber. Yes a heat swaddles me, it is natures swathe, culminating.

photo:MK