Winter

"poetry is a life-cherishing force fore Poems are not words, after all, but fires for the cold, ropes let down to the lost, something as necessary as bread in the pocket of the hungry." -Mary Oliver Eternal night's give flattering light. Breathes the tender upper moon tide rest. Sound, earth is desolate and bare. The soul is distressed, "You there". So cold the trees are there. Night breaks to turn you there. Skies of endless rest. Beneath the cloud, evening rest. Passing dust, eternity loud. Breathed, that it gave winter rest. Night leaves around cloudless skies, erase the solemn sound, falling rest. Winter there, clouds that drop the human adieu. Moonrise ray invites happy soul away. 11-18-22 Sponsored by: Sotto Poet.