The midnight sun is heading north
These bags are packed with dreams
and the memories of who I’ve been;
To scatter forth like gathered seeds
on fallow hope,
strewn at the mercy of the winds
The genesis of spring unravels
the knotted darkness
Another winter’s aftermath
hidden back on the back shelf
The distance between back then
and now, is widening
each Dawn to Dusk
A gust of sunlight
plashes ripples
across the still waters
of depthless peace
and,
my hands are no longer tied
behind my back
by winter's grasp
Seasons oft do change
perennial as the tides
But I don’t want to see
another ocean runaway;
I don’t want to know how
another fleeting moment
ends
Jesse Stillwater
7th April 2018