Oh, shadow upon me as a steel gate
Keeps a fountain frozen; longing for spring.
In darkness, with the light’s promise, I wait
for the rising sun on new mornings’ wings.
Seeds beneath ice reject deaths history;
In a mind’s aging place of well-tilled soil.
Hands cold and crossed, holding joy’s poverty
In prayer, for passing summer’s last spoils.
Each day in lengthy dour to silver night,
A child, my youth, an ember in my heart
Awakens in warmth beyond blackened light;
I await creation’s surprising spark;
Sherry Marr
January 5, 2020 at 10:20 pm
“Holding joy’s poverty….” How I love that! I love this sonnet for a solstice child. Beautiful.
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