Heavy

Hushed

Cimmerian, somber.

Even before the rooster wakes,

the earth is still

as if being blanketed

by expectation,

weighted with longing.

Soon it will rise,

but now

I am heavy with the hours–

anticipating

expecting

disappointment.

Do not speak to me

with words meant to cheer.

For now, what speaks

is the pregnant pause before dawn.

And just when the weight of it

threatens to crush me,

Rays being to filter

through the depths,

weak but

growing stronger–

suggesting to me

hope

and possibility.

~Deborah Linne

Come closer.

Warm your hands near the fire of my heart.

Come closer.

Circle yourself around my ribcage

and absorb

the heat,

allow it to ease you into sleep.

Come closer.

Let your cold breath

melt into my hair;

bury your face in my neck.

I am heat

I am life

I am warmth -

come closer.

Winter is here,

but so am I.

So, come closer.

The moon arrives each afternoon

no sooner than it left, it seems…

The hours of weakened sunlight zoom by

as if being chased by

some great winter beast.

The rays hide to the south,

lurking behind storms and clouds…

All the earth

begins to still and slide into rest,

trees quietly shedding as

the air thickens with the coming

of dark

and cold.

Life is telling us to slow…

to put aside busyness and

curl up by the fire with a dog.

Like the trees, storing up energy for spring,

our bodies cannot fight

the natural order of things.

We are merely a dash

on the Great Timeline of the earth’s rotation –

decades

and millinnea

and eons of nature’s demand,

for she knows best.

And so we rest.