Solstice

Solstice

Dimly lit, a spider’s lair –
Our woodshed, storing in dry air,
Wood split with axe and careful eye.
Winter warmth, and Solstice nigh.

Boistery, blusterous winds by night.
That morning coffee, it all comes right.
Beanie, woollies along Pollen Street,
Partly shopping, but folks to greet.

Though ‘tis the winter of our discontent,
Oldies, chuckle, wrinkled, bent.
One stooped on stick, looks up, “No fear –
Old age ain’t for sissies, but I’m still here!”

Preoccupied – where’ve I parked my car.”
Walk, look nonchalant, it can’t be far.
Cold, dark mornings, bare feet on path.
Warm evenings, cat and I before the hearth.

June 2021