winter solstice poem

 
The Earth’s Midwinter Turning

In the water meadows once again
the wild geese
are on wild goose business
and the water minds its own

down the long coombe
away over, the moors float wild
and charcoal blue in cloud

365 days to bring me back where I started

and if it’s true that soul
is to do with knowing one’s exact fit
in the patterning of it all
the place and pitch of our own deepest song

but our hearts stumble at every ditch
or divot, or fall in love
with everything, all at once

is it any wonder we have
such a hard time
finding home?


 © Roselle Angwin