Shortest Day Poem by Paul Reed

Warming sun, now a furtive stranger
Too shy to reveal your face,
Who takes sly peaks above the horizon
And is slowly fallen from grace;

Sidling between inky rooftops
Carrying watery light across hills,
Casting chiselled shadows down walls
But no soothing warmth instills;

How far from the summer days
Our weary bodies lie, wracked and finished
Our eyes bathed in gloomy darkness
Our threadbare hopes diminished;

But soon we will sing a different tune
And our weakness become the stronger,
For we know the shorter days are over
And tomorrow will be longer.