The Cycle

The sun hangs low in winter sky
Weighted in shallow, heatless dazzle
Treacherous beauty and I,
I wish that these days were done

The sun sparkles in spring sky
Framed in ice blue energy
Addictive air of anticipation
These days have only just begun

The sun soars in summer sky
Fuzzed in haze and alcohol
Indulgent heady living
There should be no setting on these days

The sun settles in autumn sky
Drying the deciduous and tired
The hangover of the year
And the days begin to turn again

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2 responses to this post.

  1. I applaud your courage and your poetry writing… Sharing a poem is a powerful thing.
    There’s an underlying sadness here, the suggestion of a restlessness with time itself; that terribly human thing of not quite understanding the moments we have in front of us…

    Reply

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