Holiday Readings: The Winter Solstice
Moving Toward Solistice
We have done what we could: Walked on these golden leaves let drop barren tress, and by the cycle of the seasons of time. We have been touched now by the sharp winds and are dazzled by the glint of moonlight on the fresh snows.
We notivce the furtive cry of a ragged raven who sits up in the beech tree…
On this night, there is a full blown moon on the horizon, and as it creeps ever upward into the frosty sky, it seeks out its starry companions, holding watch over the night. On its way, its ascend is intermingled with wood smoke, tree branches, and a few restless, wandering clouds.
The crest of the year is upon us, the harvest is over, and the awaiting of
Spring is before us… We have lived our appointed times, we arrive at the endings of the of the year…. And the rebirth of the next year’s advancing light… We cannot stay the solistice, nor refuse its messages to us.
Adapted from Elizabeth Searle Lamb
Winter Solistice by J. Barrie Shepherd
Nothing stands still.
Least of all the measuring Sun for all the way, this time of year, She seems to linger round horizons far too long.
While that river no one steps into twice, might be stepped onto fairly firmly With some sense of permanence, these late Advent fridgid mornings
Nothing stands still.
And yet, between one frosted breath and its successor, one creaking wingflap and the next of that ancient crow scavenging against the whitening sky, a stopping can take place, a holding operation, Looking around and catching breath before the next whatever that can save the day, season, year, a life from tedium and transform it into Te Deum.
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