Winter Solstice Poem

It is winter, and your presence is requested.
In the winter, when it’s time to go
deep, deep inside yourself and find the stillness,

You may be the quiet snowbank, waiting.
You may be the whisper of the icy winter wind.
You may even be the bleached bone in the field,
the misty ring swirling around the clouded moon.

During this time, do not forget
that beneath the surface of the frozen stream

is still a gushing torrent. Inside

the stark and silent aspen,
sap is green and vivid.
Full of life.

While you may go inward, this remember:
That the stillness and the later blooming

are not enemies, but friends.
That dormancy exists in service

of eventual flourishing.