Before calendars
carved meaning into months
before the equinox bore witness
to light and darkness in balance
the matriarch of the seasons
danced her endless dance alone
drawing the earth into her slow rhythm
keeping time in a language of ellipses
the seasons return, not because they must
but because she calls them by name
in spring she sings the trees into bloom
despite its’ fire, summer bows to her
in autumn she gently bares the trees again
then winter echoes in her soul
an absence of colour
a brief interlude of stillness
she cradles the wheel and lets it turn
for she is both the turning
and the returning
©Ann Bagnall
Annie's Poetry 