Solstice is the
Lonely darkness
Of completion

This vast stretch of night
Could be a rehearsal for death —
A glorious, star-field finale.

Please don’t despair.

Even the dark
Cannot hold its breath
Forever.

After three short turns of earth,
Light honors its promise
And the Sun begins
His annual ecliptic pilgrimage.

With a cold whisper of renewal
Birth rises
As Sol
Delivers dawn in his
Golden arms.

By Madam Snowflake