Balance Point

The days between the solstice and the New Year
should be intercalary. The old year's gone to dregs,
the new year waits in the wings. Old business
is tidied up and put away, but nothing begins.
This is the still point of the moving year,
the shortest days, longest nights. The seesaw trembles
at the bottom of its arc, poised to rise.

Under the sodden snow
the violets raise their heads.

Collection available! Knocking from Inside