Winter Solstice

As the Sum­mer sun sang out today, I thought joy­fully of all the energy and warmth com­ing our Sum­mer way. Here, in cel­eb­ra­tion of cold and com­ing warmth – a poem writ­ten for my first Can­berra Winter Sol­stice. A party with poems, new friends, pup­pets and pump­kin soup.

 


 

Icy wind blew blue-black trees
tickled ice out between birds wings – tak­ing flight
under full moon, half moon, no moon, new night -
and break­ing bit­ter twis­ted twig under cold,
for­aging foot – went search­ing for the frozen river
at the centre of the swirl­ing stub­born frost.

 

Icy wind – draw­ing dry blunt fin­gers which fumble
cold and clumsy, against tasks out­side; chop­ping wood
and inside; loosen­ing and doing but­tons on wool­len jump­ers
and open­ing jar lids of golden pears and con­serves,
cap­tur­ing summer’s sug­ars for firesides.

 

Icy wind find­ing fros­ted car bon­nets and cold noses.
Icy wind bring­ing in shivers from ancient ice.
Icy wind blow­ing, icy wind blow­ing,
icy wind blow­ing the winter in.

 

Icy wind get­ting lonely – watch­ing the water thaw­ing
and the grass get­ting green.
Icy wind get­ting lonely, watch­ing the com­ing of spring.

 

- Can­berra 2011

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