The Birth Day Of The Sun: Part I


The eve of day least sunlit:
bleat of sheep in bleak mid-winter
nocturne, nestled ‘midst one ‘nother
‘neath thatched, woodbeamed shelter.

The solstice aft’ the death-throes
of the sun rend the horizon;
sinking flame o’erlaid by th’lifeless
cloak, adorned with silent stars.

Heat-death quietude – the solar
spirit stands in stillness; solitary
sings the servant girl til
joined by lowing chorus.

A ewe, alone in wand’ring
on the outskirts of the town,
lies down in purity, her lamb
of mourning left to chase the Jordan.

Bayit-Lekhem in wintrous calm as
coarsest night kills evening.
The hovels house their sleepful rest,
passed o’er by angelus.

Wisps o’whispers – wistless – waft
o’er deepest valley wide;
peak: the tippingturningtidefall
moves the waters – breaking – west.


Image credit – Wendy Dewey

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