Sharing a few more thoughts on this time of year.
By Annie Finch
Vines, leaves, roots of darkness, growing,
now you are uncurled and cover our eyes
with the edge of winter sky
leaning over us in icy stars.
Vines, leaves, roots of darkness, growing,
come with your seasons, your fullness, your end.
Solstice
Smoke curls, swirls heavenward
through reaching branches
naked white against a dying day.
Holly and ivy twine
through wisps of flame and stars--
Owl drifts tree to tree,
Coyote sings,
a song ancient as mistletoe,
as time.
Spirits stir:
the veil thins.
This night,
Holly King yields,
Green Man takes the crown;
roots awaken.
An old photo of our house, from around 1980, I think, taken around this time of year. Back when we were walking in all winter.
One more old one:
Solstice 2015
6:00 AM, and dark,
still as the middle of the night,
as midnight, quiet. I walk out,
into the glow of Christmas
strands left burning,
Defiant.
The rooster crows,
just once.
Our little creek rushes
between shrouded hills,
Over-full from hours of steady rain.
No stars in the sky this longest night
to welcome the coming Light.
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