A time of sweetly sad memories,
a dark evening, a piled high fire,
embers curling and fiery tongues
licking wood, hissing and sighing.
Coffee hot in the old mug, a hand
covering mine and the voice,
long absorbed into the song
of the planets and the ever circling
bright stars, speaking warm
and serene in the spluttering
candle light and winter rain.
‘I will love you and care for you,
I will walk with you in dark times
and in light, your pain is my pain,
your joy is my joy, and we have,
my love, time enough before us.’
The veil of our temple was rent
but no earthquake shook the land,
no blackness blotted out the day.
As long as the sleeping sun rises
and memory stays fresh and green
I will live in him and he in me.
For the gentle warmth and light
of the nascent Spring cannot
be overcome by lingering darkness
or the bitter cold of winter sorrow,
and now is our Winter of Content. Naomi
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