"I am not one who was born in the custody of wisdom. I am one who is fond of olden times and intense in quest of the sacred knowing of the ancients." Gustave Courbet

18 December 2022

Gathers.

de Saedeller, A Valley in Wales, 1916


The END of a WINTER DAY

The leaves drift toward the earth like ships to land, 
A voyage launched from timbers' great lofty berths, 
Toward harbors safe, concealed from raider bands, 
Of icy galleons coursing wintry dearth. 
Squirrels don thick coats against Wind's numbing dare, 
Mount last determined searches 'long the ground. 
Brown grass conceals the season's paltry fare, 
As hopeful birds scratch for what may be found. 
Through frosted windows glow the hearth's warm light, 
As fading day casts shadows 'cross the lawn, 
And grey meets grey as winter gathers might, 
Undaunted as the chimney starts to yawn. 
Farewell brave day as twilight draweth nigh. 
Perchance on morrow sun will gather high.

Dan Young

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