Skeletal Solstice

 

Skeletal Solstice 


December:

Ice begins to form o'er Autumn's gloriously golden late-turned landscape,

Fronds of burnished bronze bracken fear-recoil; 

their penetrable hollow stems, 

product of a long, drought-scorched summer, 

scream vulnerability now.

Yet, the veins of the copper-coloured beech leaves, 

adorned with Jack's frosty glitter, shine,

as if to mock the plant and human-life beneath them.


Skeletally-strong, they and many others, have endured many winters,

Witnessed the cycle of nomadic souls who venture these treacherous paths

On such cold yet invitingly wistful, mist-filled days,

Their thick bark coats shielding layer upon layer of ecstasy and tears.

Muscle-memory ignites, skin to skin contact, I breathe them all in,

And wrapping my arms around your confidence

As the sun sets o'er the shortest day,

I feel heaven.


I was unable to visit you, dear tender beech this Solstice,

For I fell at Jack's gate - his path sealed my fate,

My pate-safe elbow-braked,

And like the bracken before me, my feet, my spine, my core,

Were taken from me by complacency;

You will always be here?

Or lost in the mists of mankind's search for 'more'.


Stand strong dear friend.

While we mere mortals break so easily, and are gone,

You live on,

Your sacred feminine silhouette - 

a monument to time, 

immortalised against every Winter Solstice sky. 


A Wensley

23.12.2022

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