poetry by Janna hill

The epiphany has passed –

now gone are the 12 days of Christmas.

The winter sun is setting low; his colors scattered like coals of fire across the western sky.

Our souls are satiated and hopeful of the things to come and so we sleep.

And we sleep.

I was just pondering, a thing which I do often these days, while enjoying a glorious Texas sunset and these words came to me.

I think it is the first creative thing I’ve written in… well I don’t know how long.

And now, while sharing this with you all, the vexing lines of William Butler Yeats come to mind.

And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,

Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

More to ponder no doubt.

For hopes that hung on a chicken bones

For hearts that lived in chains

For pods of green that died unknown

While waiting for the rain

For dreams left bare on empty prayer

For souls that wished in vain

For tears unshared in mute despair

While waiting for a change

For you and I and all mankind

For worlds where peace was slain

For faith and mind no man can bind

We wait and wait again.

Remember, it’s National Poetry Month. Get out there & enjoy the journey.

The Real Janna Hill in