The Winter Solstice (No Time for Solipsism Now)

Solstice, a sibilant word
except for that L in the middle
lolloping around like a Christmas drunk.

There’s solace in there too.

A compression of days
a primeval huddling against the dark
that low December sun
illuminating the dust under the sofa
and that kid’s toy from last Christmas
that no one could find.

The promise of longer days to come.

Taking part in Brendan’s solstice challenge over at Desperate Poets