Solstice.

These are the times when seas

Are flicker-black and silver white;

The icy gears of time and colour

Whir, click and gyre

Inside my head and out –

I hear them, feel them slip, miss,

Come alive on this, the least-light day

Of calendar’s small, moon-ruled patterns.

Horizon birthed skyline is a slow bonfire

Between present-grey and lack of clarity.

Did nature bring the reflective

Stillnesses of winter?

Or did we invent them?