Winter Solstice by Henri Cole

Winter Solstice

 

Claire says the day will be one second longer.

Darkness will no longer exceed light.

But the weather is abysmal,

so hatred of gloom is not an option. I want to live

to be ninety-five, too, and still be assembling

words into music and truth. For now,

I regard a conference of stars, with fast-moving clouds.

Sometimes my dreams are like explosion pits,

with scary lava. Yet the Earth remains constant,

tilting away from the sun and back,

like a robin to a bare branch.

Be somebody with a body, the stars command;

Don’t be a nobody. I know them by heart,

as they sink and as they rise.