solstice poem.

cedar wreath | reading my tea leaves

i

A tree hulks in the living-

 

room, prickly monster, our hostage

 

from the wilderness, prelude

 

to light in this dark space of the year

 

which turns again toward the sun

 

today, or at least we hope so.

 
 

Outside, a dead tree

 

swarming with blue and yellow

 

birds; inside, a living one

 

that shimmers with hollow silver

 

planets and wafer faces,

 

salt and flour, with pearl

 

teeth, tin angels, a knitted bear.

 

This is our altar.

– An excerpt from Solstice Poem by Margaret Atwood, Selected Poems II: 1976 – 1986

Other cozy things:

 

Candles.

 

Mulled wine.

 
 

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