Faith

A wake of hope carries the moon’s descent,
to ride off from the cold sun of winter’s promise.

Is it cold that slows the squirrel’s journey up
or their strife of yesterday’s feast of stowed summers.

The nip of hope, and the sting from the unknown,
stand as cold air in a windless day of frozen temperatures.

Yet, the move of the hours will re-ignite the heavenly stars
biding rest to the weary feeling full of the day’s survival.

Copyrighted: CMM 2009

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s