winter's coming

winter’s coming

the moon to the half

bright morning star

whispers that winter’s not  far

the year’s on the turn

and

clouds race

storm driven

rising sun roseate

on the edge

of their billowing form

 chill wind from the north

I hear the first bird

on the wing to the sea

carrying forth

memories of love

of  all that there was

and yet is to be

age striven

as

branding waves on the rocks

tell the time of my days

my spirit is young

my body is old

hears

whispers that winter’s not far

that

my life’s on the turn

love’s love is given

and

yearning to be

with the birds

that glide free

o’er

the

deep

of

the

sea