These are the darkest months
January, February, March.
We eat much to make merry
Attaching the Winter Solstice
To religion’s child.
There are older religions, now rejected,
Their meaning still applies…
Eat, Drink and be Merry
for the dark months are the hard.
Short, are the days, long, the nights,
huddled in the warm cocoon of bed.
Our breath covering windows in a coating of ice.
Fires can be banked, protected to last the night,
But the lack of light seeps into the soul
The dismal blood slowly flowing
Quickening only a little, to a flash of sunlight
Through gray of Winter.