Tonight's Poet Corner: Glow

Glow
by Belinda Roddie

It hasn't snowed around our cottage
in well over ten years, but the ice
still gets its lips stuck on the eaves
and shingles and nearby pines, and
the cold holds onto our hands for dear life.

If we want to endure a blizzard, we
hike up Sunset Hill, as we've named it,
and wait for the wind to pick up around us.
We wrap scarves around our shoulders,
one by one, like streamers, barely
fighting back the frigid deluge.

You have always preferred summer,
but for me, these twelve days
release something in me like hot air
from the iron kettle on our stove. I tell
more stories during this time, sing
more songs, dream more dreams.

And for once, as I sip my tea
in front of the fire, I hold out hope
that my future, after all, holds
more warmth and light than
the darkness of the Solstice.