WINTER SOLSTICE: A GIFT OF LOVE by Carolyn Riker

I’ve had several days now of alone time…

It is unusual and a gift that I couldn’t see until I breathed it. I have been able to watch the sun’s rise through the grey of dawn and smile at the flickers of frost melting on the waving boughs of evergreen.

It’s unique to follow daylight as it traverses the tempo of a cat’s soft slumbering purr. Night comes swifter and the glow of candles and the flames of fire comfort me more than the steady stream of always-doing-more. As much as I resisted, I needed this break. I had no idea how much my body was trying to tell me slow down until the exhaustion settled in around my joints. My eyes swam in molasses. Heaviness of I-can’t-hold-out-much-long, walked me to the throne of my nest. It’s winter’s gift of self-nurturing and love.


It’s been a quiet proclamation of femininity and a need for comfort foods. Lemon crisps and cranberry, white-chocolate shortbread dipped in tea; I felt a hint of being pampered without guilt. And the words started to flow even while I slept. My dreams became prose. This poem was birthed on a late afternoon when the sun had yet to fully shed its light and the night was already touching the sky in layers of the most exquisite quilted comfort of repose.  

Solstice artwork by Lucy Campbell

Winter Solstice: A Gift of Love

by Carolyn Riker

Maybe, it’s sacred to breathe slower,

walk softer, into the winterish nights

and let it seep into the shortened 

days of ancient grey.

Maybe, it’s hypnotic to

study the fire’s flame

and watch candle lights glow

along an edgeless night’s frame.

Maybe, winterberries accent 

the fields as crimson reminders

of wild saffron centered violets

as they slumber beneath the bitter chill.

And maybe I have taken 

field and form of hibernation 

into my cave, a nest of

cerulean and opaque hues of

blankets and quilts and softest of pillows;

a gathering of tea, the nectar of handhold splendor, 

longing for silent whispers of fresh snow.

Maybe winter is my companion

and my comfort of much needed silence;

how I embrace her blackest of precious pearls

the graceful midnight’s turn of velvet and 

down of warmth of knowing 

rabbits sleep safe and softly below. 

Maybe, I am able to burrow next to 

my own soul’s deepest throes; 

my heart aches to replenish and 

my mind’s prism 

is at last able to paint canvas 

of infinite sky and speculative wonder.

And maybe, it is sacred to 

rest under the artic chill 

till springs lightness tugs me forth, 

and my aged budding

is once again renewed.

Artwork by Lucy Campbell

Carolyn Riker is an elementary teacher, mental health counselor, writer and a poet who finds comfort and balance in her kids, nature, music and her sweet cat Copper.  She can be seen sipping soy lattes, nibbling on dark chocolate or savoring a full-bodied red wine. Introspective, forthright, kind and compassionate, she intertwines life with yoga, meditating and learning about Vedic Astrology and Ayurveda.  She also writes for Elephant Journal and Rebelle Society. Carolyn can be reached via her e-mail address carolynra7@hotmail.com or on facebook here.  

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