Candlemas, Midpoint of Winter
I could tell by the light of last night’s full moon
it would snow today.
Snow-filled dreams carry weight this time of year.
Sure enough, swirling clouds have shifted into position.
I whisper to green shoots
poking bravely through the soil:
“Not yet.”
The contradictions of February.
This short month passes so slowly
though the days lengthen,
minute by stolen minute,
offering hope that the earth
will return to living color
eventually.
Activity thwarted,
I reflect winter’s rhythm,
treasure the stillness,
yet curse the frigid air
that burrows past down-filled layers.
Mark an X in the seasons’ wheel,
solstice to equinox
and back again.
In this trough, this deep winter silence,
Gaia dances the spiral dance of promise.
Emily-Sue Sloane lives in Huntington Station, NY, where beautiful vistas hide beyond crowded roadways. Writing poetry helps her to frame her personal observations within wider, more universal truths. Her work has appeared in Front Porch Review, The Bards Annual 2019 Poetry Anthology, Avocet, The Weekly Avocet, and other anthologies.
Amethyst Review 