Winter solstice sun
I took my lunch outside today, quite late,
to sit on a metal chair whose chill struck deep.
My hands curved gloved and warm around the mug,
and my filling belly let me rest tranquil.
The sun began to stroke my cheekbone till
I turned like a flower to its warmth and sat, eyes closed,
in an inner world of vivid pulsing red,
nourished by soup and sun–then checked and yes,
this day, this very hour was winter solstice.
I’d felt the pull of our beloved sun
at its very apogee, the furthest point
earth travels into space before its pause
and turn to swing back through the icy wastes
of space to circle close to mother sun.
Poem by Wendy Blaxland