The wind’s change
Has them lining harvest fields, like mourners
Grieving summers end
Whilst I silently rejoice as the seasons decay sets in
I’ve never understood
The fear his arrival brings
His timing written in lore, calendar and sun
Even our moon shine’s brighter
Whilst the dawn stays dim
As all else around us withers,
Drawing inside away from his wrath
My soul sparkles with recognition
Longing to walk the same tempestuous path
Watching by my window for first frost
Even as the nights darken in
Awaiting a glimpse of his presence
For a longing glance in my direction
And here it is
Cold, delicate kisses
Of ice upon glass
Each one an invitation
That as soon as the equinox shall pass
The Wintersmith and I
Shall be together again at last
© 2022 Melanie Whitlock. All Rights Reserved.