WHITE SUN
A white sun
Drags low its cloak
Of long shadows.
The whispered song is
Fierce starlight,
Bitter winds.
Fast, small life,
This little wren
Dives into ivy,
Chiding sudden rain.
Standing still
To watch
An old pause
In time,
A breath
Caught, held,
Witnessed.
The dance melancholic,
A glory retained.
Satin, smoothed,
It slips
So swiftly by:
Shortest day.
—-
TEETER, THE BRINK
Now is the dark time.
What shall we do but sleep
Or light a lamp.
Illuminate, dream.
Mould our visions,
Plant good seeds
In hope.
The fast bleak grasp
Throttles sense,
Extinguishes
Simple warmth.
Small goodnesses
Are left us only,
And so they must suffice.
Trust in a return,
Slow or sweeping.
What is unlooked for
Yet remains.
To become unswayed,
To cherish, to succour.
Each one to their own dance,
A trace of footsteps
Leading back
From the cliff’s edge,
A whisper, a hand,
The ghost
Of a chance,
A good continuance,
A very garden.
—–
simonhlilly 
For what it is worth, I much prefer the second piece to the first . Just to say.
Yes, different ‘voices’ and moods. One from yesterday, one today.
Reblogged this on Spoondeep and commented:
Sun stands still, tis Solstice. Greetings to all, friends and foe…
These perfectly encapsulate how I always seem to feel at this time of year. And I love it that the word ‘dance’ appears in both. May I have permission to re-blog this please?
Of course, Safia. Thanks.
‘Tis done and you’re welcome.
When you folks rave of solstice
You speak of shortest day
But down here in the Outback
We all think you’re astray.
Try telling that to kangaroo
Or gold mining tycoon
They’d say “the shortest day my ass,
That happens every June!”
Every mirror
Never lies
But tells
The familiar tale
In reverse.
The truth
If any,
Neither one
Nor tother,
But floats invisible,
In between.
We are all upside-downers. Greetings midsummer-dwellers!
^standing ovation^
Reblogged this on Top of the Tent and commented:
A few weeks ago I mentioned some of my favourite bloggers are awesome poets. Here’s one of them, Simon Lilly, with two truly beautiful poems encapsulating how many of us may feel as the year draws to a close.
Reblogged this on aromagicallyspeaking and commented:
Some wonderfully atmospheric seasonal poetry from Simon Lilly. Enjoy!
I really enjoyed it! Thanks!
Wrens are so very tiny. i love that image.
Not the smallest of birds, but somehow always surprise by looking smaller than you remembered….. ( hope you are keeping safe and warm this wild winter)
Warm enough and not venturing out except to feed and water the birds and squirrels. How’s the frost bite at your pond?
Just wetter and windier than usual. Flooding and tidal surges, but nothing like you lot have got!