it must be cold where you are I hear frostbite in your voice you write on permafrost when I walk or run I feel tundra under foot
do you need me there? do I need to be there?
the solstice has come again ritual of time, of light, of journey the universe reminds of fragments of our lives, the plants lie to fulfill their winter obligation another season of fallow falls around shoulders
this was never your time the sun shrinks each day slowly regains the day from the moon the struggle for heavenly immortally, back and forth it moves in increments of breath
but we suddenly feel the shift the earthquake of seasons exchanging seats and for a few standing days, dancing to the next seat, larger or smaller, to be what they are
I still hear the chill in your words they disconcert me, set me off course wish there was a pyre, a rippling bonfire we could silence ourselves beside we could find different dreams
and the world would slip into the horizon of darkness