Winter bird

by Joan Myles

darkness has a way of seeping

past layers of air and mist and rain

into the place of spirit’s keeping

to dull the heart and dim the brain

and I succumbed to woe and weeping

despite my habit to refrain

from morbid tentacles of creeping

dread and urges to complain

but wait I hear amid the deepening

fog and drear of daily pain

your lilting song of hope reopening

a world of brightness once again