Solstice Poem

Exactly thirty years ago, December of '93 that would be, I wrote this poem for the winter solstice.  I don't really believe in these sentiments anymore but here's the poem nonetheless.

Solstice summoning the grey year,

grey hair gathering in my beard,

forty-0ne at the muzzle.  First signs

of the coming cold, January's shadow.

Winter's winds are cutting through

layers of protection.  Spring's ex-

tremities, shrewn of leaves, my

noggin just as bare.  I'd share

my covers with a friend.  Though

I've fought shy these forty years

in the semblance of my freedom,

we choose only our dependencies.

Wise the one who chooses one 

who's wise enough to know: 

we need each other.