The sun is playing at peekaboo,
Knows well my winter walks.
And at every unobstructed view,
To my impatience eager talks.

Reminds me that though distant yet,
It’s on a slow but sure return.
To be steadfast, not to doubt and fret,
And this assurance try not spurn.

For reminders of its summer strength,
And it’s life-affirming light.
Seem slight insult when yet daytime length,
Is so much shorter than the night.

And when the hope brief offered here,
Will be a while yet to resolve.
And as yet seems keen to disappear,
With its setting; this hope dissolve.

But its promises are always kept,
And over time we share less chatter.
For soon to higher sky has leapt,
And with it, yearnings yield and scatter.

And then, there’s no more peekaboo,
No sun-saddened winter walks,
Of the sun an unobstructed view,
Until of autumn sunshine talks.