By: Aditi Radhakrishnan
January is here, so is the beginning.
Stitches in the light, a quiet repeat for the sky.
With the light out, the dark in hide,
hope prevails within sight.
The trees hush with quiet noise,
holding their breaths to feel the refresh.
As if waiting
for someone to sing spring to them.
A plant once withered,
rise up to feel the weather.
Call this new hope?
Perhaps a cycle in a loop.