december notes

Here in the northern hemisphere,
we have 17 days more
until the earth begins her gentle tilt
back toward the sun.
I am counting them.

I am feeling the longer darkness
in my bones, in my dreams,
in the way my thoughts
brush slowly against each other;
like bodies moving underwater.



Today was cold and brilliant;
a dazzling bluegold day, I felt my face
tip to the sun like a flower
drinking rays. I felt my hands
tingle and go stiff as I threw hay
to the horse & llamas, shook a can
of wheat under the olive tree
for the chickens to find.

Sparrows & finches spray
from the feeder to the bushes
as I walk by, their collective sound
in flight is like a sigh;
dry grass rushing
in a sudden breeze.



This is what I mean.
I appreciate this slowing,
this return to the elemental
at the end of the year; light, warmth,
food; I feel things
with a deliberate intensity
whether it is sunlight on my face,
bread dough beneath my hands,
wool around my neck.

What would I do with myself
without seasons?