The Edge of Solstice

i fall with brothers and sisters from this life just past
leaf litter, in a rotting, mouldering, fetid mass
to become the forest floor
there is no scent of the newness of life
all has been released

the summer of this love has shed me
as surely as a tree sheds leaves
i’ve let go, too, no longer mourning
that the fruit has dropped to the ground
no birdsong to pick it up and give it flight

instead to wait another season in stillness
in the cold
compacted and pressed against stone and soil
to freeze and freeze again with no hint of light
until i yield and let all hope relax into it

in the timelessness—a moment or an eternity
all craving ceases, a perfect surrender on the 
edge of the solstice when night yields to light
the next day sending the subtlest signal by seconds
to step into another cycle

deeper than the last
with one more glimpse of the past
to glean what can sustain 
until the coming thaw
and push up toward the light of hope