I love this dark grey dusk of midwinter.
Trees, bushes, path, people
all disappearing around me into the gloaming.
I have survived the darkest that the year can get
and I live, still.
Tomorrow will be lighter
and the day after more so.
It is easy to celebrate this
and I do so celebrate.
In six months will I celebrate with equal joy
my survival of the lightest day
and welcome the increasing dark in my life?
On the far side of that difficult celebration
On this side of it lies separation
from the truth of the light
and the truth of the dark.