Wintry sullen o’ercast days
remind me of mine end. ‘Tis not as far ‘way
as ‘twas years afore.
Surely, I’ve lived more than I shall live.
Still, with each indrawn breath,
I hear eternity’s melody;
my very heart a choral-chamber
echoing the harmony of endless days.
Endnote: Annually, winter’s earthbound grey skies trigger the symptoms of seasonal affective disorder, among them, flagging energy, lessening interests in usually pleasing pursuits, and increasing difficulty in sleeping and its attendant irritability. Light therapy and pharmaceutical treatments have proven woefully ineffective. Hence, I tend to hibernate, withdrawing from many engagements, save those that require (read: won’t happen without me) my presence and participation; thuswise, striving not to inflict my SAD on others! O’er the years, blessedly, I’ve come to a safe, verily, sacred space of accepting, aye, appreciating this seasonal downturn of my being and, in this, finding peace.