Poem for the Longest Night

  We sleep,

  digging our heads deeper

  into our pillows

  Twisting our feet into blankets,

  spreading our toes like new roots.

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  In our dreams

  we pray

  to sleep through winter,

  hoping

  the morning sun will open

  the pressed together palms

  of our pale, tulip hands.

  We turn,

  in restless sleep,

  towards the veiled warmth

  of winter's languid

  brightness,

  and linger in a blanket

  of eyelid red light.

  - Kat Isacson

  It actually felt a bit too warm this year to post this on Dec 21, but it's getting cold enough for that frosty, where-O-where-is-the-sun vibe now, so Solstice be damned; a new year's poem it is. (This winter, anyway.)

  Thank you for reading - hope you had a terrific start to your 2024!

  +kat