The winter of the soul

The swollen water winds its way around
The frozen flowers dreaming they yet lived
and danced, by spring and summer’s kisses blessed.
Trees in dark, funeral cloths, clutch the ground

The cold, it seeps like rot inside the bone
It slows the pulse of Gaia to a whimper
Gray skies allow the naked earth to shiver,
Shriven, for its warm summer to atone

The ground needs cleansing from the summer’s sin.
Its joys dug deep into the forest floor-
Princely spread- requires purification

So the soul after intense delight turns
Introspective and seeks forgiveness for
Living in momentary abandon.