Poem for the Winter Solstice
One morning
you raise the east window blinds
you raise the east window blinds
and there
is the sun, hunched on the horizon,
is the sun, hunched on the horizon,
doing its
best to break free, shunting aside
best to break free, shunting aside
a few
clouds as it hoists itself in readiness to skate
clouds as it hoists itself in readiness to skate
a frigid
rink of sky, firing that cloud layer
rink of sky, firing that cloud layer
with
deceptive warmth, an intense roseate glow.
deceptive warmth, an intense roseate glow.
This is winter
morning, you say to yourself,
morning, you say to yourself,
but then
you realize — and it comes as a shock —
you realize — and it comes as a shock —
that the
sun has risen so far south, you feel
sun has risen so far south, you feel
your house
has been wrenched a quarter-twist
has been wrenched a quarter-twist
to the
right while you slept. You check your watch —
right while you slept. You check your watch —
migod, it’s
coming nine o’clock.
coming nine o’clock.
When did
this happen?
this happen?
The wall
calendar tells you it’s December,
calendar tells you it’s December,
but
something deep within you has clung
something deep within you has clung
to the
lingering warmth of snowless autumn.
lingering warmth of snowless autumn.
The body
deplores this retreat towards the dark,
deplores this retreat towards the dark,
the dimming
days, the physical affront of cold.
days, the physical affront of cold.
Already,
unseen crevices within us are busy
unseen crevices within us are busy
re-programming
the spirit for spring.
the spirit for spring.
Used with the author’s permission.
Wishing you a great shortest day of the year – it’s only getting brighter from here!
