WINTERING

In the formless, long nights, I withdraw into deep stillness.

A calm cocoon tenderly nourishes my sleep,
while a wild lawlessness, absent of rules, 
informs my waking.

You see, I’m wintering, resting, clearing the field.
I'm dreaming of seeds,
while giving time for old wounds to heal.

I’m listening for the whispers that come from my womb,
they’ll guide me in springtime,
to where I’ll best bloom.

Here, in my sanctuary, I lay serene and quiet,
giving myself rest as the phases of the moon
illuminate my nest.

Starlight twinkles and reflects my spirit into the night,
like a still pool mirror, void of rippling fright.

I am the fire that greets the suns and stars,
with a persistent but gentle flickering, from afar.