For the Winter Solstice

Year’s End (Winter Solstice)


What began with bewilderment 
ends with fatigue. Pixelated 
days dispersed into static 
we mistook for speech.
We stopped listening
how many shocks ago.
The horror and how it hollows.
One way out
is to locate grace in a walk
and receive a tree’s bare
but bright frequency.
Notice the waxing gibbous
afternoon moon
smudged above a shuttered
Bank of America—lucent, 
resigned to its transparency.
See starlings 
expand and collapse 
like lungs exhaling dusk.
Now the long night, 
a long silence
if we’ll let it find us.