Dear Father

Winter solstice is approaching. Night advances as day retreats, aiding my studies, though December winds and persistent festive music cut, cold and careless, to the heart. I am warmed as I think of seeing you, and soon. Winter solstice is approaching, and I'm sorry for the dour mood, but really, what is all this fuss about? The lights and carols, the “Happy” this and “Merry” that, the solemn incantations and remembrances. Centuries have wintered by, shape- shifting traditions, yuletide culture and commerce consuming us once more, like the shadow swallowing a waning crescent moon. Oh, welcome the waxing light wherever it appears! Winter solstice is approaching, and I, solitaire, study snug inside my room, while others, threadbare and wandering, homeless, sick and suffering, can hardly find much cheer this time of year. I will drop a coin in that bell rung can to ease my conscience, but why? What good will come of it? Is this what Heaven demands, the cost of my free will? Winter solstice is approaching, and I have papers to finish. Search nature, gather facts, question ideas; now hypothesize and test, write and conclude. There is no room in here for a word pregnant with false hopes, glad tidings from yesterday's gods, the gospel of fake news. We need paper trails, not paper gods. We have only one life, one brief moment under the sun. Why squander it? Winter solstice is approaching, and I am warmed as I think of seeing you, and soon. No need to pick me up; I'll take a taxi from the station. With love and devotion, your only son. November 30, 2020 Christmas Poetry Contest Sponsored by Regina McIntosh