Full of bloom and colour, sun full overhead
Face turned skyward embrace nature’s gift
Long days of bounty, endless joy of which we read
Heedless, careless, forgetful of the cold dark rift
No thought of seasons extending beyond the sun
Prepare not, time has no bearing, no dominion here
No one to tell us of things that must be done
Too late we realize, the shadow season, so near
Stoic Poetry
Through The Cracked Window (Revisited) 