Spring’s gentle kiss falls on dormant pasture,
deep in the earth life’s rhythm, beating faster
swells buds, massages rising sap through bare branch;
the balance tips, nature wakes from winter trance.
Round bellies swell, within new life is formed
and small things teem in fields the sun has warmed.
All through the darkest days some clung to hope
while others begged their god to help them cope.
Darkness seemed about to overwhelm the world
and every loving kiss was graveyard cold.
In chilly isolation nothing good could grow
and money raged and kindness cowered low
to seek the shadow’s sheltering embrace.
Fear scarred the countenance of the gentlest face.
Self – proclaimed messiahs’ promises evaporated
in the rage of greed even hope was tainted.
When all we believe in dies and darkness grips
the mind thoughts turn towards apocalypse.
Then all the prayers in temples everywhere
like trees falling in the forest; none can hear.
Those who worshipped beg their gods for recompense:
the divine reply? Silent indifference.
Only when faith is replaced by certainty
and hope is weighed against inevitability
we understand that all the time the cycle turns,
under the ice an unquenchable spark burns
and wait, knowing an equinox will come
and balance be restored under  benign sun.

MORE EIGHTFOLD YEAR POEMS:
(Autumn) Equinox
Imbolc
Solstice Fire
Fires Of Love (Beltane)
The Making And Unmaking Dance

Two more to add but they are archived (mislaid) just now.