The winter solstice is a time to be fully present – in the stillness, in the deep and utter quiet, in the detail of the world around us, and even in expectation of the return of light.
My voice, arising out of winter solstice, is expressive of just such detail. I have the simple luxury of living in a beautiful, green, peaceful environment – one that easily promotes listening for the voice that comes through us – not to be confused with the frenetic voice of the mind.
In the quiet, I am reminded of all that is vibrant, alive, creative: a deer family whose restive comfort extended to our back yard; a young rabbit whose interest in equally-aged garden greens provided nourishment for us both; a tiny chipmunk storing walnuts for the winter in my flower pot, a secret which I keep. In season, it was quite a show.
My celebration of the incremental return to light is simple appreciation of that which I observed. My own reading of this piece can be found here.
as sunlight, its own midwife,
arises – open secrecy
its intent. Winter solstice at its
back, thickened clouds descend, fog politely
suspended over the dance of droplets
reverberating on paved spaces
of other seasons. The taut, hard
day awakens in promise:
opening sleepy eyes,
of sunlight, a
purpose. As yet,
not a hummingbird
shoving among the web
of branches. No frenetic
chipmunk; not a bunny baby
lusting leafy lettuce, nor the deer
family taking sunny repose in
yard’s alcove. Their wisdom at rest, no
longer a need to tolerate my
inane greetings. I pledged to keep
fast the secret hiding place
of walnuts, of deer paths
trodden, of shared stares
point on a curve
of unwellness, of
sadness, of fear, of loss.
May I celebrate the Light
by distilling loneliness to
friendship, by converting poverty
to plenty, by enjoining attitude
with beautiful spaces, by finding wealth
in relationship, by dreaming
others’ dreams as my own, that
donning my clothing may
clothe others; that as
we rise in Light
How do you voice that which feeds you?