THE SOLSTICE SHIVERS
 

IN A CRYSTAL CHAISE, AN ORB, SUPINE,
REFLECTS THE COLD OF AN APHELION SHINE.
HOW QUICKLY IT MOVES, FROZEN IN PLACE--
AN ICY MASK OBSCURING A RADIANT FACE.

Upon that face, in the thick of things,
Life's hunkered down, thwarting Winter's sting;
Yet the Cold creeps in, and thicker still, 
Coagulated Life, nothing thawed, save will.

In Winter's wrap once more parody unfolds--
Sunshine so bright, and yet, the bones so cold. 
Sure, Life's adapted, overcome, and survived,
But looking back, perhaps existed, not thrived?

Aeons of Winters, layers of strife,
An advancing glacier, gouging through Life.
What hope then? Should Life thus cling?
Look! A terminal moraine at the hearth of Spring! 

By S Kenosha

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