now we are in the dark days

now we are in the dark days
where the sun slips away before I had a chance
to have a coffee with it
like a shy dinner guest who is not sure
he is welcome

now we are in the dark days
and I can’t stop thinking how
the next time I write poetry like this
the days will be stretching their backs
like sleepy cats, all long and luxurious,
glutted on sunlight

but now we are in the dark days
and I hunt for candles in the windows
I plan for warm drinks and cozy couches
I put on a fleece hat and pray it will be enough

now we are in the dark days
and to be honest I do not know
how we will make it
how I will make it
but I know we have before
I know love is a blanket
and I will wrap myself in it
all winter long

I’m doing NaPoWriMo this month! Typically NaPo—National Poetry Writing Month, a challenge to write a poem a day for a month—happens in April but one of my friends has also done it in November, and I’ve been feeling that itch to write more frequently. It’s been really interesting to see how the types of poems I write and themes I’m drawn to are different at the close of fall than they are at the onset of spring. This was my poem for day four, and I’m looking forward to sharing some of the poems that come out of this month with you guys.

I wrote this the day after Daylight Savings ended (began? how come no one ever knows?), stumbling out of my basement apartment after working from home only to realize I’d never really seen the sun that day. In the days since I’ve actually become much more appreciative of this falling back because it means my morning walks happen after the sun rises, so at least my first steps of the day catch the light.

But still. Despite the glorious and unseasonably warm fall we’ve had here in New York, winter is coming. You can feel it. You can certainly see it. And while I love the crisp air, the leaves, the holidays—and while I’d generally pick cold over hot any day—I feel a foreboding this year that is different, deeper than normal.

I don’t feel ready to have to bundle up just to walk down my block. I don’t feel ready to commute home in the dark. I don’t feel ready to brace myself against the elements.

I miss lying on the grass feeling the sun burnishing my eyelids. I miss running out the door free and lightweight with only a bag and a baseball cap. I miss watching the sun set languidly across the arc of the Hudson with friends over a slow evening.

My roommates and I have been talking about how we need to have fun things to look forward to, winter rituals to give us hope. We want to pick a warm yummy drink to make most nights when we come home from work and a TV show to binge together. I bought a new pack of hats that look cute and feel cozy so that, as Elsa says, the cold won’t bother me so much. I am training my eyes to appreciate this new angle of light as the earth tilts away from the sun, slanting new surprises across familiar landscapes.

We can do this. There are good things waiting for us in the darkness. I believe it.

In Other Words…

Goodreads reviews:

• Jupiter Rising by Gary D. Schmidt (3 stars)

• Born a Crime by Trevor Noah (4 stars)

Wherever in the world you are, and however you feel about winter and the shortening days, I hope you feel a candle of hope within you today.

to staying awake ~

Aberdeen