Joy Has Flown South

Joy has flown south,

for the winter it seems,

condensation beads

on glass panes

chill air of late autumn

kisses the warmth

of this house

on its windowed eyes

leaving tears

which adhere

with unshakable drear

Yearning

for long days

of bright, brilliant light

which have migrated

to warmer climes

introducing summer

to a different hemisphere

we’ve a bleak wintry slog

in the meantime, to endure

I will hibernate to daydream

of happier, golden days

whose promise

lies in the coming spring

like the sleeping bulbs

buried in the garden

lying dormant now

may the sun
in its fullness
reappear