As we are close to the darkest time of year, it’s good to go and snatch what moments of light we can find. Sometimes, I have to sit still, in the face of the cold wind, and allow my eyes to be open, just looking, before I begin to see the hope, the life, the turning of light’s tide.
We need the light now.
Now, at the turning of the tide,
when the days shrink small,
and night seeps through shadows,
the river flows with palest light.
Now, when light and life seemed frail,
and failing, the tide turns, water returns,
eddying and rippling the slow, chilled, flow,
a river new filled with salt, with wide sea.
And the white gulls dive, and lift their heads,
and rise, quicksilver water
pouring off their opening wings,
beaks full of flailing, silver fish.
And here, on these grey banks,
flowers are open again: stems
split and burst with green leaves and
yellow petals, new touched with life.