Winter Solstice by Alan Alexander

These nights are cold and still
And something in me awakes
Listening like an animal,

Waiting for those times to come
Which belong to the blowdown of rain
And the hard, pure heart of wind

When the two trees in the garden
Fill out and the cats scamper
For shelter and I go crazy

With meaning, opening the door
To the neurotic girl who
Was so difficult to handle,

Who shakes her coat and tells me
Not to worry, she won’t be long
Gathering her few odd things together

And stilts about from room to room,
Leaving a scent of broken things
Helplessly on the air,

While the two trees in the garden fill again
And the house is buffeted with returning rain.

From: Alexander, Alan, “Winter Solstice” in Westerly, No. 2, June 1973, p. 35.

Date: 1973

By: Alan Alexander (1973- )

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