A Song for the Winter Solstice
You are the wild horse
I ride carefree on Sundays
You are a canvas for the words
I decorate with green moss
and blue savage moons
You are my secret sun
hiding behind
the shortest days
and longest nights
You are not afraid
to scatter your seeds
on the breast of a robin
to make memories
You are my sanctuary
of hungry wheat and
longing warm
underbellies of home
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