When the sun comes to December
it visits with the constant glance of angel eyes
cast upon the inner sanctum of soul
strolling in immortal beauty of the world
& its infinite points of view, as rhythm
is sprung from seasons undulating
beneath phases of the moon. & winter
waits for the rites of spring.
©2014 MDSHall, in collaboration with the Poet Tree of Discoursing Drums beating By Any Dreams Necessary.