Lawrence Hall
[email protected]
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Everyone Writes a Drivelly Poem about the Winter Solstice
And entitles it
“Winter Solstice,”
And yet Somehow the World Goes On
The sun seems to stand still, and too, the world
An Ouroboros of lockdowns and masks
And the increasing divisions of partisans
In yet another republic devouring itself
There is an insubstantial Christmas truce
Undeclared, a catching of breath and will
In hopes that two-faced Janus will close his doors
Against the failings of the coming year
The sun seems to stand still, and too, the world
We also wait, and search the skies for a Star
Dec 22, 2020
Dec 22, 2020 at 8:26 AM UTC
Lawrence Hall
[email protected]
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
Everyone Writes a Drivelly Poem about the Winter Solstice
And entitles it
“Winter Solstice,”
And yet Somehow the World Goes On
The sun seems to stand still, and too, the world
An Ouroboros of lockdowns and masks
And the increasing divisions of partisans
In yet another republic devouring itself
There is an insubstantial Christmas truce
Undeclared, a catching of breath and will
In hopes that two-faced Janus will close his doors
Against the failings of the coming year
The sun seems to stand still, and too, the world
We also wait, and search the skies for a Star
A poem is itself.