The Moya View

Bearing the Light of Seasons



The rain sheds  precious jewels this winter night,

the oaks untangle their branches in clarity,

musky solidarity, and affirmation of their place,

an unlearned wisdom  of existence  that

allows them to bear the staggered light of

unhurried clouds spreading their endless

laughter to all those fixed below.



The cold, crisp wind of change kisses

and abandons all the oaks of the field.

They shiver off their acorns knowing

they must be naked for the dark days ahead.

The clouds dark smiles are just beginning

to bear their light for winter’s derision.



The sunshine dances with the wind

and the oaks of the forest sway

in the merriment of unfiltered days.

They embrace a child’s shadow,

generously mixing it with their own,

bearing a tempered light for those

who breathe beneath their branches.



Diamonds of rain embellish the thirsty oaks

and they drink it in in tangled unity,

not scornful of the others judgement.

Fickle clouds grudgingly bear the light

until the sun forces them to share

its unending generosity with everything below.






One response to “Bearing the Light of Seasons”

  1. carolineshank Avatar

    I love this

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