Watch The Light Shift

Today marks the moment we sway back towards the light as we’re held deep within the longest night, a fertile darkness where life transforms. It is Winter Solstice. I went to the creek behind my house, a place I’ve been visiting since October to listen. It is here I heard, “Watch the light shift,” and oh how this place is teaching me to do just that.

There I stood with my back against poplar and fern at my feet, both sweet beings who have shared so much with me, holding out their hands like a mother, or a friend, or a stranger does so you don’t slip as you take the next step. I let my eyes close. I felt poplar’s heart reach out and hold mine and fern’s wrapping up around us, like layers of all the same bloom closing for the night. I opened my eyes when a squirrel’s leap showered rain water from the branches above, and then I saw what this place sees - my eyes its eyes. A lone deer jumped across the creek, barely a sound. Right there, only a breath away. It’s white tail flashed like the light to come. It stopped on the hill for a moment and then moved through the trees like a dream.

My heart, our heart, sighed. I felt, we felt, this blessing. It was an opening to the magic, the quiet curiosity winding through the world. A feeling with no more words to describe it, only tears rolling down cheeks and over lips curled into a smile.

Back in the warmth of my home, I sat with this feeling, knowing words needed to be written. Candles flickering. Watching the light shift still. Then I realized the words were already written in a poem that came many months ago from a time I sat with fern and asked what she’d like to say.


I reach, reach, reach.

Most of us are

reaching towards

something or

someone or

just the light.


I reach with the

hope

that someone will

reach back,

so we can wrap

around each other

and learn

how to be

together,

how we are

the same.