Playing with Light

In this season's dark ashes
Embers flicker.
Something stirs in cold womb of winter.
For when the primrose sun blossoms,
All will grow sweeter.
For spring is born through the bonny legs of winter.
Fragile, beautiful and new,
Frosts thaws to dew.
The morning suckles the warm sun and grows into the day.
The season becomes strong and beautiful in the bloom of May.
("The light" by Luke Jacobs)