a time of ending and beginning

 

Winter Solstice '25

the light of morning comes reluctantly 

to the mountains this Winter Solstice,

gray clouds control and fill the sky,

with no differentiation so I can't quite tell 

if and where they're moving,

the trunks and limbs of each tree

ache upward to the sky,

black shadow columns,

poles that supported the tent of leaves

that was and will be again,

but eloquently aren't for now,

the green of the rhododendron by the creek,

dark and brooding,

patches of rock and trunk seem to exude light,

as if welcoming the day that creeps forward,

dark birds dapple the sky as they move somewhere quickly,

yellow permeates the green moss that covers everything it can,

the day has a dull pallor about it till about noon,

when like a chick emerges from an egg,

sun cracks through the clouds

and blue sky and sunbeams return to the world,

we finally get lights on the Christmas tree,

one son and his family with us,

the other son and family due here in three days,

like the Solstice, both presence and absence are with us,

we feel thankful for the light we have

and feel sorrow for the darkness of last night and this night,

and sorrow for all the losses that come at us,

including the deaths of two former students recently,

we wonder if life can wane as the light wanes,

we are gifted with the curse of seasons,

with the quicksilver reality of change,

of a time for all these different purposes,

of the constancy of the inconstant,

there is a clarity to the Winter Solstice,

a time of ending and also a time of beginning,

a time to remember, a time to hope,

a time to grieve loss,

I look west where the last light just left the slopes across the creek,

soft salmon suffuses the clouds above the darkening hill,

my eyes tear at all we've lost,

my heart beats with the hope

that each new tomorrow will be toward the better.

by Henry H. Walker

December 21, ‘25