Dark Descending — A Poem

A room in darkness, seen through a layer of branch's shadows from outside.
“Dark” — C.Birde, 12/20

I feel it…

the slow creep

of oblique melancholia

that seeps beneath

the skin

as daylight slips,

eclipsed by dark.

Hours dim and dwindle,

smudged from each day’s

steady transit.

Hoarded light reclines

toward torpor,

awaits eventual

rebirth,

while in the interim,

I feel –

oh so keenly

its very

dearth.

— C.Birde, 12/20

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