Pours and hammers,
Splatters,
Floods,
Washes
Washes
Washes Earth
Travels in currents
Builds in grey galleons
Falls in its torrents
Washes miseries,
Miseries
I thought it could be snow
I thought it could be green Christmas
I thought it could be grey,
Sadness inexplicable.
These winter solstice ends of day,
Though,
Gleam through bare trees standing
In the distance, flames burnishing
Up from ground, horizon’s twilight sky
Pulled into
Solstice change,
To rain.
Maybe all of this
Is what is always there for us to hear
To apprehend,
But in the strife,
This night,
Craving waiting gentling
I dare to wish
The turning.
December 25, 2020