Happy Solstice, one and all.
The longest night is upon us.
There have been several snowfalls this year in Santa Fe. The last time the snow fell (four days ago), I was able to spend some time watching the flakes fall through a nearby streetlight.
It's always mesmerizing:
And I discovered worlds in the spaces between the falling flakes - fell into memories of other snows, found interesting visions of alternate lives...
Here's this year's Winter Solstice Poem.
It's a work in progress.
1. Snow in the Streetlight
Crystals fall through
orange light. They speak
as they fall: This is how
travelers pass between
worlds…this is how time
collapses into itself…
this is how the world is
made and remade…I rise
to meet the falling…this
is how old and new
revolve around empty
space…
2. Nebraskan Plains
Snow-dust drifts
across falling snow.
Cold in the car, cold
for a thousand miles,
no light beyond the red
shoulder-reflectors.
A face in the rearview
mirror: my future self,
writing this now, calm
witness to my terror,
excitement, my confused
snow-trance.
3. Nederland, Colorado
Christmas lights reflected in
porch ice. A few flakes spin
out of a clear twilight sky,
circle the first stars. Where did
they come from? A grey cat
approaches, prancing, goofy,
trying to walk on snow without
touching it, my future self,
writing this now, performing
an awkward dance, embodying
the pattern of hide-and-seek
flakes – something from nothing.
4. Crossing the Frozen Raccoon River
I tracked deer prints
through deep snow, to
the river’s edge, looked
across and thought what
the hell. Nothing to lose?
On the other side, a crow
clutched a bare cottonwood
branch, my future self,
writing this now, eyes on
me as I stepped onto the
ice, and followed the deer
into another world.
5. Hitchhiking: Indiana/Illinois Border
Kicked off a ramp on Route 80,
I found a phone booth to hide
from the falling snow. Snow
caked the glass. I was closed in,
entombed, everything inside and
out, a deep blue. My hands shook,
sifting through change. I called
home. Wrong number. The voice
that answered, my future self,
writing this now, offered a distant
memory of loneliness to replace
the loneliness itself.
6. Livorno, Italy
Snow falls into the sea,
floats toward the dunes.
I open my mouth, catch
flakes on my tongue.
Further down the beach,
a lone figure with a thread-
bare coat, his back to the sea,
watches; my future self,
writing this now, guardian
and trickster, making sure
I stay long enough to let
the beauty break me.
7. Snow in the Streetlight
Inside the space between
falling crystals I fall asleep
in a pile of warm bodies,
listen to the soft, humid sighs
of other hares; I nestle against
a brother crow, black feathers
sharp, cold, comforting; I
become a lynx, at the still edge
of a snowfall, snow-clouds
broken apart, a few stars in
the open space, waiting for
movement in the dark.
The Ghosts of Winter Solstice Poems Past
2011: Solstice (& 3 poems by Erling Friis-Baastad, John Haines & Basho)
2014: December (1 Poem)
2015: Saturnalia, Solstice, Christmas (& 3 Poems)
2016: Midway
Through Life's Journey: Winter Solstice 2016
2017: Winter Solstice 2017: The Under Realm
2018: Hope, Courage, Mercy
2019: Winter Solstice: Labyrinths
