Winter Solstice, 2010

Print

Imagine the sound our collective yearning
for the return of the light must make:
all that whistling past the graveyard
in the darkest hours of the night, hours
which, at this time of year, seem like
they will never end, though that
has never happened, at least not yet,
the sun remaining true to the blind law
of the axial tilt by circling from ascent
to withdrawal and then back again.
Even now, in the lowest ring of winter’s hell,
the light has begun a slow rebound.
That being so, can daybreak be far behind?