Waning crescent moon

Mid-winter chamomile sun

What will light my way? 

At 11:49 last night, those of us in the Northern Hemisphere passed the Solstice. For the next 187 days, we can look forward to a minute or two more of daylight each day. 

As if to remind me that the dormant shall soon enough awake, frost leaves patterns on my kitchen window that bear resemblance to trees. Ironically,

one of the ladybugs that mass bloomed during a warm spell last week, froze to that same window.

Unlike the equinox, which is all about balance, the winter solstice is the farthest handhold of a grasping darkness. It gets this far. No farther. The shadows begin to recede. 

If I can be patient, the weak chamomile sun, too cool to warm my bones, will move closer and stay out longer. 

Perhaps I'll be able to leave the Cave, observe more than shadows, make judgments based on well-lit arguments, rather than a view seen through a shiver-inducing murk. 

Welcome, light. 

May you help me to find my way in the coming months.