Winter Solstice
From a scoop of luscious moon... at the Milky Way counter...the stars have spilled over...in an icy cold night.
My brothers, Jim and Dan, died a month apart in the summer of 2001. The first Christmas after their deaths, I was still mourning and deeply involved in writing what would become my first book, “The Jim and Dan Stories.” The book, a chronicle of the first 6 months of the grieving process, weaves together stories of growing up as one of nine siblings with the stories of my brothers’ last weeks. Below is an excerpt from the book, written on the Winter Solstice, the darkest day of the year. It was my hope at the time that my burden of grief would grow lighter as the light returned and days grew longer, and the excerpt marked a turning point in that direction.
It’s one mile to our neighbor’s farm where the Winter Solstice Celebration is held. There’s a spiral labyrinth there made of evergreen boughs that we walk with a lighted candle each year. Bundled up to protect us from the cold, one by one each person arrives at the center where they say a few prayerful words before walking back the same way they came, leaving their candle somewhere along the spiraled path. What starts out in the dark, ends up brightly lit, a hopeful reminder of the days growing longer, of the in and out breath of the year.
I stayed home this Winter Solstice. I was still reluctant to be with large groups of people. My husband, Joe went, and when he came home, I told him, excitedly, “Something new has happened.”
“What?” he asked.
“I’ve written a four line poem that’s not about Jim or Dan.”
“What’s it about?” Joe asked. “Is the fact that it’s four lines significant?” He added.
“No, that’s only significant in that it’s a small step. The significance is that I wrote a poem for the first time in months, and it’s not about Jim or Dan. It’s light and just for fun,” I said, encouraged.
While Joe was walking the Solstice spiral, a stray cat was crying at our front door. I knew that my son's dog, Jasmine, would be home soon and would chase it away or something worse. I thought about a Bible story I remembered from my childhood. Jesus said it, I think. 'If you turn away the beggar at your door, you also turn away me.’ Then I thought about Danny’s cat, Winslow. What would Danny do with a crying cat on a cold night? I brought the cat, which was white and butterscotch colored, a bowl of ground venison and a drink of water. After devouring the food, the cat continued to cry, until Jasmine did come home and chased it away. Nature taking its course, I thought.
Still, I peered through my window looking for that cat and that’s when the moon’s delightful richness struck me…From a scoop of luscious moon, at the Milky Way counter, the stars have spilled over, in an icy cold night, I wrote. The poem got me thinking about Lime Rickey’s and Frappes and the L Street soda fountain we grew up with. But I’m not going to write about that. ~ From Nature Taking its Course
Comments
Those four lines are perfect, absolutely beautiful, nothing else to be said.
I would have a tendency to bring the cat inside and she/he would probably still be here. Animals seem to know this instinctively and it isn't always a good thing. The kitten was lucky to find you on a cold winter night.
Posted by: srp | December 21, 2005 1:44 PM
so late in the day to find you un commented
another moon lights the night out our window this solostice eve
what luscious sightings will be illumiinated within or
without us
Posted by: joeyk | December 21, 2005 3:01 PM
Michele sent me today!
Love those words... Amazing combination!
Hope your holiday season is a special one for you and your family.
Posted by: NetChick | December 21, 2005 5:31 PM
Hello Colleen! Michele sent me. Hope your day has been special.
Posted by: Crystal M Siegel | December 21, 2005 5:34 PM
Beautiful words, Colleen. Thank you.
Here via Michele today.
Posted by: Courtney | December 21, 2005 5:49 PM
Very good post. I really enjoyed it.
Thanks for stopping by my blog today.
Posted by: Joe | December 21, 2005 5:52 PM
You, Colleen. Are one heckuva writer. I hope to meet you when I come to Virginia in the spring.
Posted by: poopie | December 21, 2005 6:14 PM
Love this, Colleen, and like Poopie, I hope to meet you too.
Posted by: kenju | December 21, 2005 7:00 PM
Very nice post...BTW...I know what a Frappe is (chocolate is my favorite!) ;)
Hope you are having a wonderful Winter Solstice!
Posted by: TammyB. | December 21, 2005 8:42 PM
Tammy, you're Yankee roots are showing.
Posted by: colleen | December 21, 2005 8:52 PM
I liked that!
Posted by: Deana | December 21, 2005 9:09 PM
I was really impressed with your poem, which is unusual as I'm ordinarily too grounded for flights of poetry. You really nailed the feeling of a winter night, word perfect.
Posted by: Bill Slone | December 21, 2005 10:10 PM
A beautiful turning point. Loved this.
Posted by: Elissa Malcohn | December 22, 2005 1:02 AM
What a very sweet rememberence at the Winter Solstice...a ray of hope with four lines of poetry...Truly lovely Colleen...I wish you a Beautiful Holiday though I know it does have it's very very poignant side, my dear...
Posted by: OldOldLady Of The Hills | December 22, 2005 3:41 AM
This is a lovely post. I love the story of that particular solstice...I love the poem. Thank you. May we all receive more and more light!
Posted by: vashti | December 23, 2005 1:46 AM