for those we love, both home and (far) away.
The paths are mud slides
browned, rain bombed bracken
and a grassy soup to walk on.
Small stones, jagged shark’s teeth
a swirling, relentless maelstrom.
But, just for a while,
Carningli is kinder today,
a watery sunlight underway,
and a ghosted moon, cloud slipped,
the sky a silvered duvet.
And so we three, slithered, mooched
on this, the shortest day.
Night has fallen now,
the storm pillows above, ready to rehearse
the current seasons’ lashing curse.
Hey ho! the wind and the rain.
Best behave brightly, for here it comes
oh! yet again.
the light is on the turn,
the days will brighten,
the mood sweeten
and here’s hoping that
many of us will emerge
For others now,
they have passed the point of no return
the Solstice rung, a December dirge,
a sorrowing song across the mountain,
a pausing, pondering reflection
above the cairn.
No chance of reinvention.
Their lights have set now, stilled, extinguished
at least on this side of our universe.
But winter memories are yet distinguished,
and whilst their candles no longer burn,
for lives well lived,
like the Solstice waters flow,
and they are not, nor will be