long shadows

Saw this shadow last week.

Ran up the stairs, threw up the window, took this picture.

I immediately decided to find a poem about the long shadows of winter,

but I couldn't.

Most all of the winter poems are about snow, and gloom, and sadness.

We on the other hand,

 live where winter is merely a passing shadow of itself.

So, maybe, I'll write my own.

Haven't tried this in a while.

Here goes...

Winter

In the deep the South

one never knows what a winter day may bring.

Some are drenched with rain,

buffeted by wind,

dark with clouds,

frigid.

Others are brilliant blue skies,

sunlight streaming through the windows,

gentle breezes.

soft white breezy clouds,

balmy.

 Winter days are carpets of brown grass,

stick trees,

golden leaves everywhere,

long shadows at midday,

stark.

Winter days are short.

The whole earth is resting...

getting ready to spring forth with life in a couple of months.

The cycle must complete itself and begin again.

Winter is for rest, for worship, for deep thought.

Winter is exciting for what lies ahead.

Winter is for renewal,

for starting over,

for nesting.

Winter is hope.

by cathy

*I'm waiting with a huge amount of anticipation for the light to come back.