It has always been spoken of
as the grave and womb of light
this most brief day
this deepest midnight
...
I painted a moon to look at
and gave it a wild sky to rule
then I sat down to listen
to the night blooming flowers open
...
Just passing through...)
Winter Solstice
It has always been spoken of
as the grave and womb of light
this most brief day
this deepest midnight
stiffened with ice and silence.
It is crucial now that there be
harbors and pools and islands
of light
and it is necessary
that there be song
for the dead are everywhere
stricken with grief
wandering among the birds of winter
but with song they may be comforted
and Love, on this longest of nights,
requires the giving of a gift.