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.