Solstice Hopes

I’m not sure if it’s the shortened days That douse the fire with malaise Doubts that color vain displays Red cheeks that the cold wind flays. And yet I strive to soldier on Battle with each breaking dawn Stagger like a fallen Fawn In defeat slow quartered, drawn. Old trees concede the warmth I seek The wisest owls too cold to speak Mock the soaring hawks as weak Call even nature’s beauty bleak And yet we hold to Solstice hopes As snow-blind climbers cling to ropes. John G. Lawless ©11/19/2022