Books
Poetry/Lyrics
Essays
Winter Solstice
Our old rock blinks tired eyes, at
the river bank where last year's sunlight sat.
Here again, our curling ark.
Distant sisters spiral, cutting paths;
record grooves in vacuum's dark maths.
That distant star is a tree,
a friend in the infinite ink of gravity.
Apollo, Hera, gazing back at our Zeus, Helios.
Nine billion tiny specks celebrate this day with phones.
Moss clinging to stone.
Ice drips at a new cold ray.
Silent sounds ripple from our home
towards the nobody who can help when we pray.
Another past gone. Stoic mark made,
and we specks move on from the dark days.
|
