#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Morning Brook, Solstice

So the shortest day came, and the year died,

And everywhere down the centuries of the snow-white world

Came people singing, dancing,

To drive the dark away. . .

~ Excerpt from “The Shortest Day,” by Susan Cooper

It’s dark, 5:00 a.m. I light a candle. I have my notebook and the flicker of flame reflecting in the window. I close my eyes for five minutes, and listen to this wonderful soundscape of Annie Finch’s “Winter Solstice Chant.”

Winter Solstice Chant: A Soundscape

Annie Finch, Lady Zen, Paul Servizio

This soundscape combines howling Maine wind, wolf voices, and my poem “Winter Solstice Chant” sung by Lady Zen with music by Paul Servizio.

And then I write to my prompt, writing into the turning.

At dusk, I meet my older brother in the center of town. He has brought, to the cemetery, where my parents’ ashes are buried, where we have a bench, a small Douglas Fir. The moon is a white flame in the black branches above our heads. We are saying hello, we are saying goodbye, we are saying thank you. They are listening. My brother brings me a box of handcrafted chocolates from Vermont for Christmas and I carry them home and my daughter eagerly opens the box, eats one. The fact that there was snow under our feet, and no wind, and the blue black hover, made me feel that we had made time for something essential I would not want to have missed.

Dusk Moon