Winter Solstice
and how to survive the dark
Even the grass falls flat, worn and weary from winter's wind, from hollow waiting. And who can blame their meekness? They are thin blades built for easy warmth— flattened plates waiting for the summer solstice sun to spoon out its excesses. No, winter is no time for the thin. It is shivering time; hold me against more-than-bones time. If leanness will make it, it will only be the lean strength of those with sturdy sinews of memory circle-dancing for warmth through the frost-gnawed night. _Written December 16 2025
Bees survive winter’s fury by dancing in a circle and keeping each other warm with their body heat. They each take turns on the warm inside before moving to the harsh outside, before finding their way back in again. They are sustained by the summer’s honey, summer sun foraged from a billion beauties. This sticky, physical memory will keep them dancing until the sun returns in the spring.
This poem was written during my first session with Alex Dawson’s Messy Writers Club. After the class, I emailed Alex my draft and she provided some very helpful feedback that has made this a stronger, tighter piece of work. During the class, Alex did a beautiful job of teaching and facilitating, helping stoke creative fires and generative community. The last few months, I have been looking for a writing community and I think I’ve found it! Here is the link to sign up if you want to join me there.
I love every line of this poem💜
This is quietly beautiful. I love how you let the grass mirror human vulnerability without forcing the comparison—the weariness, the waiting, the need for warmth all feel so natural. That line “No, winter is no time for the thin” really lingers; it’s tender and honest, not bleak. And ending with “sturdy sinews of memory” gives the poem such a grounded, resilient warmth. It feels like a gentle hand held through the cold.