Ancient times ago,
before the birth
of written words
the world hunkered down
between the grip
of winter
and waited,
humans half-hibernating,
sleepwalking
through long frigid nights,
and brittle glass days,
curling into woolens
like corkscrews,
conserving energy
for the great burst of spring.
All winter,
we rested,
pulled in tight
to our cores,
replenishing wells
run dry,
filling up our souls
with rest
stillness,
and silence.
– by Rivera Sun