Winter Refuge Winter
Solstice


...For weeks now, the sound of carols,
old and new, has been heard during the /        
   evening
hours, a sound passed on from village /
  to village,
like a fire which must not be allowed to /
  die out.


That quiet time of year when thoughts
of the past naturally turn to face the
stars of the North, and we sit in front
of the winter fire, alone,

gently burning away the burden of what
has been. Old books go, manuscripts go,
bills, letters never sent, even things we
wish we would have said. We watch

them burn, the crackling sound of the dry
pine bringing the hard, heavy oak into flame,
irregular remindings of the unexpected
which broods and ripens

within the silent, glowing coals. That dark
time of year of many candles and delicate strings
of white lights that help us remember
the slower, more subtle rhythms

of the Earth itself, now not confused
by too much of the sun's glare. Some spaces
are meant to be empty; they're precious,
vulnerable, but oh-so-easy prey for

the religious contractors pounding at the
door or trying to get down the chimney at night.
But the fire is hot enough, and there's the simple
promise of handmade gifts which do not arrive

until spring. For weeks now, the sound of carols,
old and new, has been heard during the evening
hours, a sound passed on from village to village,
like a fire which must not be allowed to die out.





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(Photo:Deep Snow, Winter Refuge; the Alps. Many of the pieces of the Picture/Poem collection
were written here over a period of some 12 years. In all fairness, it must be said that this photograph
was made towards the end of March, 1995, and not in the middle of highcountry winter. It's not
the snow depth which gives this fact away, but the angle of sunlight. Notice the slant of the
shadows coming from the mountain ashes in the foreground. During the months of December
and January, this spot would not receive direct sunlight on even the clearest of days. The snow
remains on the ground here until about the beginning or middle of May.)


Winter Solstice, which might also be called A Midwinter's Night's Dream, is part of a
double quartet of pieces, all in a rather slow, contemplative, narrative voice,
which celebrates the eight major festivals of the Solar Year.

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| See also November Snow  | Ringing the Changes at Candlemas | and Calendar |
| go to Picture/Poems: Central Display | PicturePage: Week II |
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Texts © 1999 Cliff Crego   All Rights Reserved 
(Last update: XI.30.1999 )
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