Long dark mornings gradually awaken to frost covered landscapes
Green fields now hardened rock, trees with their cast iron fingers pointing
Accusingly at grey overcasts skies, clouds pregnant with water to fall as snow
Lights from house lined streets their a golden glow cascading before them.
A damp dark day filled with a monotonous languor that drags from morning to dusk.
The High Street fills with Christmas shoppers, Christmas lights garnishing a tree
Blinking red, gold, silver baubles, flickering lights beckon children pointing, tugging
At their mother’s hand.
Dusk filled streets with houses adorned with Christmas decorations on the outside
With brightly lit trees flashing their charm in front windows bordered with tinsel.
Gently falling snow crunches underfoot in the quite of a solstice evening, only the
Echo of carols sung outside nearby houses break the silence. The silence of the
Shortest night of the year where the earth takes its rest before it slowly, ponderously,
Starts to brighten our lives. This rest as the earth ends one year and before the start
Of fresh hopes for the coming new year. A new year of opportunity, of hope.
The winter solstice, a time to reflect on what was and what may be.
—poem by David Wood