Owl hoots three times in the far woods,
fair warning for all small creatures
scurrying to their burrows.
Are we not still and always
those crouching figures
who flee the heavenly alchemy?
Three times in the crackling air,
Owl hoots for us.
*
Wind plays the drums of snow...
staccato taps,
crescendo off the roofs,
flourish of shuddering branches.
Ice snaps its castanets,
its daggers.
Atonal music of the darkest days
needs the most fearless,
subtle listeners.
*
Those strumming flamenco
fingers of sunlight
are a long time away from now.
Now we go comforted
in dreams and ceremonies,
flaming our star-speck candles,
raising our voices against that other music,
drowning out the forever
at night’s heart.
*
Look up! The wheel is turning.
The spectacular crowd of stars,
the tangle of dimensions
jostle for our attention.
Salute the birth of everything holy.
This beautiful poem was written for the Winter Solstice by Dolores Stewart Riccio and was published in her exquisite Doors to the Universe. It is posted here with the kind permission of the poet.
4 comments:
Oh yes
it is returning
very soon
and I am pleased.
I love the light
and the sun is good
for these aching bones :)
Another exquisite photo capturing the *feeling* of the season...! Powerful poem as well, incredible imagery - "fleeing the heavenly alchemy" - and yet, the celestial wheel still turns...
I have so much deep graditude and appreciation for your posts. The words, the silence and the photos are each inspiring for daily meditation, reflection and journey.
Thank you for the lovely, dreamlike image juxtaposed with the icy crackle of that poem. How I wish I lived somewhere I could see a gleaming crowd of stars instead of the sickly orange of city light pollution...but I can see them in my mind.
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