Letting winter run its course suggests
amorphous powerlessness – or merely
wisdom less vaguely based than one’s
feeling warm; comfort of a fire and a
good text asks few questions, poses
no mysteries excepting who gets the
next log – rare deliberation in fact as
the current log burns without haste
It is a leisurely pace which intrigues,
no need to up the ante when layers
of warmth shelter a decision of no
contest – letting it happen in its own
way has majesty bearing witness to
unassailable impressions of equity
© 29 June 2012, I. D. Carswell
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