These days -significance?
None! as they merge into one
dangling good fortune
beneath a winter sun.
Here in the northern hemisphere
we play these yearly games -fear
superstition weighing us down,
i no longer believe
your even here. Alone, i count
the sheep, minutes into hours
yet, time stands still. Buds into flowers.
seasons: a poetic journey 
Wow.
Read my blog too.
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And time stands still. What a phenomenal piece.
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Wow! I like to hear that. 😂 i really never know what my words mean until someone else reads them and then, bam! They fill me in with the specifics. Thank you for leaving a comment. I appreciate you reading. 🕊
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Jeanne, it is always a pleasure, always!
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