You Winter, whom we begged so long to come
While lilies in sequestered fields lay dreaming.
Revolution in the air, breaks through the numb.
Hand to hand to time such a strange seeming
This year marches past shops with boarded faces
Despite the Yuletide rush and raucous beaming.
You Winter, who on branch rests black-winged traces
Midst grumblings, unrest, sharp limned dis-ease…
And a crazed, upwelling, hopeful shout displaces
That nemesis, the known, who clings, yet flees.
What quality of day is yet to break?
This fire-lit longest night, some prophet sees
But tells us not,
Says simply now: Awake.
T. Thorn Coyle
Winter Solstice, December 2014
Solstice Blessings to you all. May your life be blessed.