Sunrise, 17 December 2006

Faint violet on the eastern horizon
seen through a tracery of dark tree branches
slow brightening of the sky.
And the song of a wren
the feeder is empty - squirrels won out;
the wren sings
tweetle, tweetle, tweetle.
A carol of another kind
calling me awake on this sleepy Sunday morning
in a season of rushing
and buying and wanting
and missing;
in a season of remembering and giving and hope,
against a persistent gloom.
Darkness has its beauty, its gifts
lights more piercing against the blackness of deep night
but the morning’s growing light
signals another day
another chance.
The wren sings
keep looking -
it is there
before you
and
within.

Written on December 7th - but got so caught up in busyness, I never got around to posting it!

The darkness settles upon us gently each afternoon, and the night deepens early. We watch, and wait… for the returning of the light.
The candles are in the windows at home, and a few strings of cool, white LED lights adorn the entryway (they use less electricity than the old-fashioned kind). But I haven’t even begun my shopping or baking - and the Christmas countdown is well underway. Yikes! Why should such a beautiful time of year begin to feel like a competition?
Every year, people comment on how we are losing the “true meaning of Christmas” - whatever that is. Maybe it’s easier to reclaim this spirit than we think. No need to return to some idealized 19th century Dickens holiday or 1950’s “wonderful life”. Maybe it’s as simple as slowing down and in the darkness, blowing on the perhaps fading ember of love that glows in each of us. Maybe it’s as simple as living life not as if it were marathon of preparation and purchasing, but as if it were something that really mattered to those closest to us.