Winter

It is not yet winter,
and the race is not yet run,
The bone is yet to splinter,
while there’s still thread to be spun.
The sky is still above us,
below the earth is sweet,
As yet the gods still love us,
though we walk a crooked street.
All is not yet over,
there are still days to be had,
There are still some hours in clover,
and some moments to be sad.
It is not yet winter,
though the days grow shorter now,
We are walkers now, not sprinters,
and we’ve white hairs at our brow.
I will love you in the winter,
as I loved you in the spring,
With a love that bends not splinters,
and a love song still to sing

©️jane jago 2018