Birthing Light (a Winter Solstice poem)
© Laura Craig Mason 2002

Out of this nowhere time
between the harvest
and the planting
some things still germinate
some things still ferment.

Her eye is like the sun
warm
and enriching.
Her voice is like the moon,
my mother
so knowing.

Sing the praises
of every sun goddess and god.
Sing the praises
of those
divine
and mortal
who lift us higher.