poem for solstice



The ancient ceremony starts in autumn

blessing earthly work and wonder;

Rituals of reaping, burning brightly,

moon arising, leaves asunder.

Barely a blink – a summer dream –

rushing did the warmer solstice fly;

And now we are tucked quietly into winter

under the blanket of a cold, cold starry sky.

-Kathleen C. Cooper, December 2020