On the Eve of Winter Solstice

Frigid air
and darkness
shattered
by hooting of 
Owl

shelter
of Spruce
Her perch

She owns 
the night
​

         I love the quiet time of Winter Solstice.   Like a child's top, the busy world winds its way slowly down to a pause, then stops completely before the child sets it spinning wildly again.  In that gap, that pause, the Winter Solstice enters, granting to all the world time once again to breathe, to cease from all activity and allow ourselves to stop doing and just be.  In that peaceful state, as the world rests, we may notice the last quarter of the last moon of the year, the Doe in the shadows, the whish of the wind in the pines, the cry of the Owl.  A priceless gift is ours!