I will leave you with a Solstice Poem instead of a Christmas one, and see you in the New Year. Happy Holidays!
Newgrange
In late December
on crystal Irish mornings
a shaft of light will sweeten
a cave-like structure mounded
millennia ago by people like us.
Not for them endless moaning
about black nights
seeping into foreshortened days.
Rather, an undertaking to construct
an outsized earthen sanctuary
honoring light and life to come,
a dwelling for a burst of sunbeams
during the year's nadir.
Master builders these stone age
farmers, these Paleolithic artisans,
these Druids disdainfully dismissed
as primitives focused on the dark arts.
Marilyn Aschoff Mellor
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