CCXXXI and CCXXXII

She is like fruits and honey--not too sweet.

For sweet alone will canker very soon,

and leave you neither medicine, nor boon,

but fruits and honey love with love complete.

And this is what we poets all get wrong.

Love is not rapture, though it feels that way,

love does not go unbridled with no stay--

love rather is a simple, perfect song.

That is how I have learned of it from her.

She makes me perfect joy, nay, not too much.

She sings for me with just a gentle touch.

She is that something sweet, complete, and sure.

What would I do to stay with her--to know

forever that sweet song that’s just just so.

~~~

It really was so sudden, just how much

I needed desperately to go and see

what is the soul-sustaining Winter-crutch

of those like me: the sweet Stardew Valley.

As soon as I first shivered, I came back

and wanted to envelop myself in-

-to simple farming tasks--to drop a “stack”

of produce I had grown in the sales bin.

What did I do before, in Winters, when

with every venture outside I would die

a little, with no close recourse, and then

endure another dark night by and by?

But I need not now fear the darkness so:

to Stardew Valley I shall gladly go.