the return of the light

solstice arrives . on wings of torrential rain pounding the tree canopy. pounding out the dark

days morning arriving in the dark and evening coming too soon.

the maples still hold their blazing red foliage, as if clutching a wool coat close.

it is now winter but the garden is still speaking the language of fall.

last night i dreamt i jumped from a plane, and i fell and i fell and i kept falling, with no

bottom, no landing in sight. and at some point, i switched my identity from the falling body,

to the vigilant ground spotter, looking up from a target painted on the ground, waiting for 

the jumper to land, but no one landed and i changed persona from the jumper to the spotter, back and forth, over and over, til the pounding of the rain, and the beckoning of the Solstice, ( o and the coffee) woke me.