Waiting for Solstice


Each season steam-trains toward the next,
gathering speed in impatience to become
something other.

Waiting for solstice.

Pebbled days followed by bouldered nights,
the sands of time grow large
at summers end.

We stroll among the remnants,
picking at shards -
foam caps washing ashore,
late season steamers,
kissing amid trillions of warm raindrops,
soft breezes redolent of popcorn and hot dogs,
warm sunny days that become chilly nights,
the screams of gulls protesting
Nature’s change.

The body of water rolls over in its sleep,
a giant settling in.

The moon-tides have a fondness for love
I do not want to forget
as I trade shorts for coats,
sandals for galoshes
honeysuckle for holly.

The day I post this is the winter solstice, the longest night in the history of planet Earth.

©2011 Christopher Reilley

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