MIDWINTER TREE CIRCLE

Dark by 4 pm, the setting sun precedes
even that. Light-energy retreats, ceases,
as dusk decidedly draws its cloak over
eager inhabitants of the tree circle.

Rabbits hole up beneath bramble barriers;
mice dive under dry straw mulch, warm at the base
of each compass appointed tree, standing staunch
while piercing winter wind whips relentlessly.

In the east, garbed with abiding verdant boughs,
roots sunk deep into the recently made mound,
the yew holds command as grandfather supreme;
holly commences reign as half yearly king.

The inner circle is empty, expectant.
Phantom boundaries sealed with implicit intent,
a prolonged shiver issues forth, bears into
quaking the new seed of life and love and light.

Kaaren Whitney

Winter Solstice 2004

 

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