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
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