To celebrate solstice of winter's cold,
We turn to primary colors of olde.
Spring's promise is still so far off.
But each day will grow longer, as it oft.
So are the seasons of our lives.
Like the bees, we wait in our hives.
We celebrate our meager harvest,
Will it last or will it starve us?
The conifers and holly live on,
So vibrant richly green.
In contrast to the white of snow.
A magic winter's scene.
Holly berries, so red and full,
Help sustain the birds,
Remind us of our children's glow,
From which new blood will flow.
We have so little cached away.
But like the birds, we hope and pray,
That with this simple celebration,
We'll prevail to see spring’s day.
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My Place
Copyright 2004 © Ronald W. Hull
12/5/04