Rebirth

Those hours between sunrises, waiting like an autumn ribs, anticipating wondering if there will be novel surprises but then falling with withered enterprises as each evening dies, with no relief Holding tired memories, as to a jaded crutch yet still yearning for summer’s touch with warm, airy breezes of springtime’s allure until reasons feel quite good enough and sure to let go of bonds, in beautiful release Awakening, only to see that renewal came while time played its torture game inspiring new zest and stirring hunger’s fire arousing mornings of dented heart’s desire in the rebirth, which sprung all around