I wanted to write a dramatic poem for the winter solstice that was shrouded in shadows.

I wanted it to be outspoken in its denial of the existence of shadow.

I wanted it to go off into the unknown with wide-eyed wonder.

In addition, you should have a hint of a glinting fang to tear old binaries apart that only sing to light.

In my mind, I wanted it to insist on us turning off the twinkle lights of the stars tonight.

In order to stay honest with the visceral pull of despair, loneliness, or any of those nocturnal creatures who still don’t want to be seen, we must abandon the abstractions of hope.

It was going to be a lot of pressure.

as well as somewhat demanding

that we take a seat and look directly into the camera

into whatever ferocity we’ve been told makes up for our lack of sleep

The roar in my heart, on the other hand, was muted.

and nothing materialized

except for the sufficiency

the size of a small mouse

crouched in a thicket that was easy to miss

On occasion, it may be necessary to warm up a little.

of awe and wonderment shared by all

between the beats of its tiny heart

as well as the gentle fire of the moon.