I love to feel the needles

I love to feel the needles of the sweet embrace of cold

As the creeping chill goes deeper, gently taking hold.

The cold of morn reminds me each and every day

Of Gaia’s sweet impermanence as the sun burns it away.

Then the needle cold of morning, gently driven back

Only to return again when the sky again turns black.

And so the cycle starts again, as all good cycles do;

The impermanence that is life – to constantly renew.

About a foolhardy florilegium

Nullius addictus iurare in verba magistri, quo me cumque rapit tempestas, deferor hospes.
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