Can Winter Solstice Be Far Away?

New York

It's still dark outside my window at 6am. This time of year as the smack of cold air hits my face, the winter solstice always seems too far away, too hard to hope for. How did people stand it in the days of caves and clubs, wondering if the sun would ever warm their soil and souls again?

Slowly, from my window, I see the sun begin to paint the distant buidlings' windows a shiny orange, basking in its reflected glory.

Below, I've posted a favorite poem of mine. A little morning gift for all of you.

The Journey by Mary Oliver

One day you finally knew

what you had to do, and began,

though the voices around you

kept shouting

their bad advice--

though the whole house

began to tremble

and you felt the old tug

at your ankles.

"Mend my life!"

each voice cried.

But you didn't stop.

You knew what you had to do,

though the wind pried

with its stiff fingers

at the very foundations,

though their melancholy

was terrible.

It was already late

enough, and a wild night,

and the road full of fallen

branches and stones.

But little by little,

as you left their voices behind,

the stars began to burn

through the sheets of clouds,

and there was a new voice

which you slowly

recognized as your own,

that kept you company

as you strode deeper and deeper

into the world,

determined to do

the only thing you could do--

determined to save

the only life you could save.