How heavy this month is the burden to bear
To leave with regret the clamors of the feast
And, while the old one finally retreats
To offer the world the hope of this new-born year.
We sometimes keep for a long time, in secret nooks and crannies
The wilted needles of a coloured fir
The smell of the resin, and then… everything disappears
As if to let Janvier at the end win.
The Sunday of the Kings still holds the time,
Gathering the heat around the golden slices
From a blonde galette with a hidden bean
Choosing in turn King and Queen of an Instant…
Outside nothing has moved, the season is in full swing
Today rain and wind, and snow may be tomorrow
Only the camellias stand in the frozen garden
Opening their pink buttons in cheerful notes…
It’s a transit time, between night and light
Beings and things wait in silence,
Meditation time over the past year
Carrying deep into it today’s seed ...
Janvier ... Le Miroir Intérieur ... © Chantal Duros aka Eny