by Kaaren Whitney
Dark like the mole's black velvet back,
dark like Gaia's womb,
unwrapped as from deep boroughs of excavated earth,
Winter slows to the pace of a moon white icicle
as sun completes its final exhalation, and stops.
Savouring the pause, the freedom of emptiness,
the solstice half-yearly turning begins again,
revived, breathing in fresh rays of light and life and love.
A very blessed Yule to you all.