A Solstice Poem

By Mary Wheeler
Friday December 21, 2007


Green sprouted though deep rich earth 

Mothers everywhere gave birth. 

Peace was again at hand 

And the river ran. 


Children played wild and carefree 

‘Neath the leafed-out apple tree 

Heedless of the treaty ban. 

Still the river ran. 


Drying leaves began to fall, 

Geese flew south with mournful call. 

Cold discord crept through the land. 

Yet the river ran. 


Came wan winter ice and snow, 

Friend and brother were now foe. 

Clashing armies took their stand. 

But the river ran.  


Then the darkest longest night, 

Pale moon but a ghostly white, 

By a heedful few a cry was heard, 


A whispered voice, a hopeful word. 

Hope sprang forth from fountainhead 

Fresh air breathed life from the dead. 


Rose bloomed in the snowy land 

And still the river ran.  


The river knows no season, no emotion, just the endless cycle of birth and death. Listen for the whisper of life born anew and feel peace from the river flow.