This is an old po-em...back when I thought maybe I could write poetry...there was something very satisfying about them at the time that I made them, probably because their short nature, long skinny columns of words attracted me, and they seemed simple enough...I made no effort to rhyme (I've caught myself editing it even after promising myself that I'd leave it 'as is' warts n' all)...Although I loved playing with them, I stuck with the novels...this is my celebration of the Winter Solstice...
Longest Night
Weary at the end of this shortest day
I long to rest -
I sit by the window to observe
the beginning of the longest night.
I light a candle and turn off the lamp -
the glass reflects the white lights in the fir tree
that glitter behind me,
a symbol of life and
the season of giving.
I watch the snow fall and
shimmer to the ground -
a soft white blanket,
blue shadows like twilight.
The street light illuminates the night -
the snow sparkles
the essence of something precious,
each flake fallen rare -
unique crystalline infinite forms,
so small and delicate -
the warmth of tomorrows sun
can destroy these precise
intricate wonders after this
longest night is done.
Shivering, I blow out my candle
turn off the lights,
I go to bed to sleep until
the morning comes
at the end of this longest night.
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