How Light Bends

When winter looms, the light shines not as much;
But the sun still fights to rise each morning
Bringing hopes of spring right around the bend
And yearnings of new beginnings, still yet.
And slowly, in those cold morns, the sun stirs;
Its beams pierce the ground’s hardened coat of ice
And shifts the scene from knowing to unsure
Bringing waves that distort pictures behind.
I once tried to understand how light bends.
My curious mind never found its peace
For the answer has long eluded me
And its whispers haunt me still through each day
As if to say “my wisdom is not yours.”
And its dancing upon the wintered lot
Taunts those who try to solve its mysteries
Teaching peace found only in the unknown.