January, wither, waste —
barren, inescapable darkness
where life wavers on a breath;
all life wavers, disintegrates.
January, gaping, gray —
starved, fissured ground
where the Daffodil is born;
the doomed Daffodil buds, struggles.
January, unforgiving, unchanging—
freezing, asphyxiating air
where blossoms dare to dream;
the Daffodil blossoms and
b r e a t h e s .
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Solstice
PoetrySolstices traditionally mark the beginning of summer and winter, but more than that, the summer solstices marks the longest day while the winter solstice marks the longest night. I've named this collection of poetry "Solstice" in honor of that, as t...
