No matter what is said
It is always determined
To seasonally toll the same
Without the needed light of day
Darkness emanates morose thoughts
Or simply zaps the energy
There does not seem to be any reserve
Only the lack of sun
And brief daytime hours
Brings some to their knees
In the hoarding doom of January
Unrelenting to the where withal
Or the inertia
Oh, how we await
That springtime warmth
Salvaging us from the brutality
Of winter’s curse
The world regains its colors
Moods can be eased
Energy rebooted
Oh, praise to the sun
The sacred, emotional nourishment
Pivotal to our existence.
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