days away
our celebration
of the new year
and the light
that just yesterday
appeared to be
growing dim
now seems
with each hour
to be more
the open trees
the thin snow covering
the frozen hillsides
the mind filling in
what's missing
after the passing
of the winter solstice
perhaps each
in its own way
is the source now
of what matters
but what of
the forgotten feelings
for so long sleeping
that are now stirring
and the returning
gratitude for the
grace abiding
in the smallest of beings
what too of the sweet smoke
from the tended fire and the
laughter interrupting silence
as it echoes down a winding path
and wakes the mountains
and the hint of joy
in all that follows after