Winter Solstice Pink white salt gravel crunches under leather soles Not for me the crunch of frost coated grass Cracking under heavy soled boots Not for me a frozen wind swept Tor Or circled trees or tall stones, patch-worked With the last of autumn moss, glinting with night ice. No. For me on this sacred dawn there is the train The sky is blotted out by streetlights No stars to see, even the moon looks tired As she looks down on the yellow orange glow That turns night sky dark clarity To jaundiced sickly yellow brown. Out there, somewhere, other eyes see stars And can find their place in the constellations I find my place upon the train By the window, on the side of dawn, With hot filled flask placed to mark my spot Bag and hat and coat and gloves and scarf Removed and stored above my head Book and phone to hand in case of need I sit amidst the travellers, unknown and nameless, Dozing, yawning, working, already working Wireless but wired, online and off Locked in silicon communion Dawn should be halfway through this hour Outside the sky is lightening But I can barely see the suns warning line From inside this bright light travelling box Looking close to the glass I can see shadowed fields, Dim light reflecting back from white frost Black green hedgerows, Dark houses beginning to awaken A line of lights over a road I cannot see On this train there is no sense of common purpose Unless perhaps it is to ignore and be ignored No celebration here of dawn, Nights end and years turn another working day I think of other dawns, wreathed in smoke Of wood, of sage, of cigarettes, All mixed with clouded exhaled breath and Steam from hand warming mugs My fingers, unconscious, softly echo drums That would be beating on the Tor, at Avebury, At Stonehenge, at Nine Maidens, at Moonhenge, The heartbeat of the dawn beaten out By fingers more rhythmic than mine. Reflected in the window I see a face Turn and sharply frown as my fingers tap. Brought back to here and now I stop I look to the dawn, see golden light grow, Spilling slowly over hedgerows Winters trees, stark, glistening and lifeless Cast long lines of shadow over Frosted fields. Do those trees sense that the years tide Will soon recede, each slightly longer day Bringing whispered promises of warm nights, Warmer days and green life for dormant trees On this train, Passing along the edge of days first glow, I feel the unbroken train of thought That links where we were, to who we are And to what we might become Not just myself but all who look towards this dawn Join across an ageless realm of time With all the tribes of homo sapiens, Who, in ages lost, looked with wonder To the dawn and to the horizon To the unknown world beyond To the promise of the year ahead Shadows shorten, fields lighten Dawn makes way for morning Unseen and unremarked By screen locked eyes In silence I welcome the sun My unsaid words, My unshared thoughts Combined. A silent prayer directed at the year ahead. And a world I know too well.
Posted on: Sun, 21 Dec 2014 13:51:39 +0000
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