Winter Tree

Light some candles, curl up in a blanket, rest by the fire with my lates poem from December 13. 

Winter Tree

By the fire I sit

unrestful with winter

knocking at the door

Should I be brooding,

in the dark un-turn

what was made before

Or should I be seeding

a new tree breeding

in the apple grove

Winter darkness

I am learnt by your 

promises, the old wise

women tells how

the story unfolds,

of what the Earth is

turning inside her

as winter goes

But what of a heart

that longs of itself,

a field og wild unknowing 

trying to break free 

The story of winter

has grown tired 

in its own light

What if this heart of mine

wants the new to spring

forth to flower and bloom

in the winter moon

Oh women of old

lay down your worn

old clothes, come

dance with us

into a whole new world

     where even your stories

too, will be untold

Where your old skirts

are turned in the 

ecstasy of your swirl

into a priceless

new metal that

outshines even the

rigid apple hanging

sturdy

on its winter tree

© MajBrit Jo Arnested