Its music finds a way to seep into my soul, whether I am surrounded by the concrete spires of a city or enveloped by the scent of fresh cut pine and balsam on a bonfire.
Tonight is no different.
It is a song composed on lines of moonlight and spaces of shadow, played on the strings woven around my spirit and connecting me to the land, the sea, the crisp night air and the fire in the stars. There is healing offered here, if I don’t refuse its call, if I am willing to stop and be still. I pull on my coat, succumbing to the melody.
A break in the clouds gives me the view I need and at once I become moon drunk—giddy, warm and immune to this solstice night’s chill. I drink in more of the moon’s wild brew, find the most passionate stars to affix to my tenderest places and help guide me back to the place where I find aspirations still untarnished by disappointments.
That is when I add to the song, delighting in the harmony between the moon and me. We sing until morning, when I rise, spent but knowing I shall grow stronger along with the newborn sun.
This prose poetry piece was inspired by the picture at the Sunday Muse, Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie’s , and the wordles at Sunday’s Whirligig and the Sunday’s Whirl .
Song Choice: Music of the Night performed by Andre Rieu
Notes from the Real World: Even when I was a kid I've been drawn to the changing of the seasons. Being more of a warm weather person, you might think it'd be funny that I'd love the winter solstice, but I've always felt a little lift in my heart, knowing the longest night was behind me, and ahead of me was a new year. This year, I had the distinct delight of being part of a solstice gathering with a group of friends, and by the time the evening concluded I felt a lightening of my spirit that I hadn't felt in a long while.