leaving the days short and dark,
tired and full of worried care.
Noon shines dim as twilight,
dawn comes and goes unnoticed.
All seems dull and drear, and me with it,
so that all I wish to do is stay in bed and sleep.
But Christmas is almost come
and with it new beginnings:
some giant hand winds again
the mainspring of the seasons,
of life, of everything. In me
begins to stir the echoes of inspiration
and the distant longing for good work,
hard work, the satisfaction of a job done well--
of a job started and done.
(ain't dead, not yet; more to follow, barring end of the world or other disasters)