The uncaring stars bring cool relief,
To the strange, blue hills of our childhood’s sleep.
When forgetful snow wraps the summer’s grief,
And ice closes over the rustling streams,
Then we find the faint trail and go numbly back
To our fire to wait where our parents once sat.
The rivers flow sluggish and quieten the mill,
When winter extinguishes summer’s spark.
In the deepest earth the creatures lie still
Waiting to burst into spring from the dark.
And all our hurts are just seeds as to flowers,
Waiting to bloom into brighter hours.
While every snow blankets the fragile stem
Until life finds its way to the sun again.