Follow me down the narrowing tunnel of the year.
A year’s light will close around the edges of our days.
Days will leave behind light to fall into darkness.
Darkness, a quiet friend, will to roam with us farther
and farther across the wide passage through the frosted fields.
Fields will thin into the dark pines along the riverbanks.
Riverbanks will darken into the moonsilvered rivers.
Rivers will freeze and darken with us.
Follow me, closely. Hold my hand, firmly. Speak, lowly. Touch my sleeping shoulder, softly.
Softly as the snowfall and the light of winter stars.
Winter stars bending over our passage.
Our passage through the circle of the year.