With the dawning of this new day, my hands are no longer out, feeling for the way...

Time to stand tall and breathe, in moving stillness, as a silhouetted tree...

And cometh the winter, to strip me bare, totally exposed, Sampson without hair...

In this discontented season, though the dimming light, I see the words, logic & reason...

And now, as before, I will light the fire, seal the windows, and close the door...

Feel the heat, relax, stretch my legs, and rest my feet...

And enjoy the quieting of my mind's din, as I exorcise the noise and chaos of the past, from within...

For soon the winds of spring, shall bellow and shout, a seed will grow roots, and a new tree will branch out...

And from these branches, budding new leaves in tune…

I will dance & sing, come the longer days of June...