Advent Embertide: Saturday

a poem (of mine)

Advent Embertide: Saturday

It was the longest night after the darkest day.
The winter moon, gleaming like marble, climbed
to her full height and a voice called out
from the wilderness of the tomb. It was a time

for rejoicing, but I was weary. It was the fast
of the tenth month and I stood before the cold
face of the Lord, my shoulders curved as a cairn
as I pushed against the hard rock of faith.

Though late, I walked the dog into the woods,
let her have her run while I looked up
and around me. Through the green lace of pine trees
and the bleak lattice of bare branches, light shimmered.

In the sky, the Cold Moon, Orion the Hunter,
his stars orange red and blue white,
in the distance, the glow of Christmas lights
on the houses and trees of my neighbors.

The dog scratched against a fallen oak, frantic
to strike. I heard their squeaking cries first,
and then, in the moonlight, I saw
a family of mice nestled in a hollow of leaves

and bark and rotting wood. The dog, nostrils
flaring, growled, and pulled on her leash. But,
I held her tight, dragged her away though I knew
some other animal would kill what we had spared.

Weary and spent, I walked home. The key turned
in the lock, the door opened. The fire, still warm,
needed only to be tended and fed to last the night.
The dog settled. I slept and did not look back again.