My ‘day’ began at 12:34 AM (count me the odd one as I get a bit of a thrill out of glancing at the clock and seeing numerical sequences or patterns, such as this). After half an hour of wakefulness, I got out of bed, donned my robe and slippers, grabbed my journal, my current read (‘Melmoth’ by Sarah Perry) and an assortment of poetry journals. One of my morning rituals is reading a variety of poems – duly noting them in my journal – and since it was technically “morning”, I began to read and record the poems as I experienced each and every lovely one of them.

My winter solstice was off to an early start indeed, so perhaps my day – this designated shortest day of the year – will feel a little longer than it really is. As I noted in my journal (in the wee hours of the morning), the days begin to lengthen from here on out and that is truly something to celebrate! Especially here in the frigid Midwest with a winter storm bearing down on us right before the holidays.

Two hours later, I was ready to crawl back under the covers. I slept well after that. This is one of the perks of being retired. Can’t sleep at night? No matter. I don’t follow any schedule other than whatever my heart desires these days. I can sleep in, if I want to or need to, although this particular morning I was surprised to be awake, and up & at ’em, about eight o’clock, even after an interrupted night of rest.

So here’s to the Winter Solstice and the return of increasing light in the weeks and months ahead! Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to one and all. 🙂

Madame Whats-er-name

knows a good panacea

when she finds one

on her favorite pharmacist’s shelves:

Love Potion 9.1 ~

Pandemic got you down?

Isolation taking its toll?

Invert the crisis. Simply add a dot.

Covid-19 will soon be just

a distant memory…

(T. told us so)

**********************************************

JAJ Note: I stumbled across this in my archives. Seeing as how my husband just tested positive for covid, I thought it appropriate to share this poem I wrote back in August of 2020 for that year’s Poetry Postcard Fest with the image I used on the postcard I sent to a friend of mine! 🙂

if this morning’s leaf

on our chanticleer pear tree —

sole survivor of late autumn’s

icy blasts —

were a bell,

the neighbors would pause

at their breakfast tables

to wonder if the new year

was ringing in early

mangled, dry, a crisp crunch underfoot

the last season’s mowing more than a month past

all that remains until the cover of not-yet-come snowfall

is to pick up after puppy, his leavings throughout the yard

fairway #4 spreads out beyond the wrought-iron fence

the trees and the pond, trending of late with Canada geese

and a different manner of leavings…

all of it this morning blanketed in a mist of hardened nightfall

beautiful in its uniformity, somber under the weight

of what lies before us

the mish-mash keeps her awake for hours / unseemly dreams, misspent allocations / they haunt her slumber, deride her restfulness // hawk-spirits gliding over harvest wheat / playful souls entwined in a dance of love / yet, she yearns to return to more concrete memories / her strength upholds her // trust sustains her desire / she believes she will thrive, despite the odds / despite all those who seek to devour the only light / she’s ever known