Happy winter solstice. As I close this day and prepare for my final deep meditation of the night, I depart on a few micropoems that, beyond what most of my readers will know, say much on the reflections of the past seasons, all in analogy, of course, to nature.
(canon)
Like a river you
rushed into me and I
spilled, clumsily:
I didn’t know that was
how love worked.
(fated forest)
From the path,
strayed, led by the beauty;
it was the danger of the wolf
that taught me how to fly.
(river whisper)
Tranquil, transparent,
flexible and refreshing:
the only answer to your thirst,
forever on your tongue
lest you forget the magnitude
of my potential.
Mountains do not carve themselves.
Sharkey Speaks 