mid winter



If winter is the wide ocean of night
February is the trough that holds visions
deep within its icy caverns, deeper than sight

and frozen in flight from dark to light,
the midpoint arising into life, questions
forming purpled plots of flowering earth

raised beds of awareness plumbing the depths
of heart, pulsing not in vain
but through the hard-working hands of time

that freed both animal and soul, flesh and spirit
as one seeds bursting open to receive
the blessings of a softening earth, a yielding

spirit, a desire for growth and transformation
into a new cycle of growth, becoming
firmer rooted that it may reach higher,

broader, embrace the tomorrows
that today sleep a season’s slumber,
silent and unseen deep in the cave

of mid-winter, the light resting
‘til the wheel spins its slow way round
another spring beckoning forth.