Not here and not now
yet some winter road tells a story
of the shortest day
the longest night
This snow a simple driftless dusting
it sits lightly upon the trees
waiting quietly for new leaves
buds tight and shiny
for now bare branches where crows alight
All who do not flee for warmer places
light the flames
hands made warm by winter grogs in hefty cups
hearts gladdened by what is here
by what has passed
Here is the solstice
there will be more light tomorrow
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