Sperm and egg? A shorter day three of Pat's Poetry month.

Solstice

Is almost here.

The light lingers deep

in these northern woods,

as if moonlight itself

weren’t enough this time of year.

We know the science – how the angle

or attitude presented toward the sun

allows more light and heat

to penetrate our atmosphere –

not unlike sperm penetrating an egg.

It’s the religion that intrigues

and mystifies – stone circles

placed in line with sunrise or set,

a capstone pointed at the spot

the sun rises on a given day:

Solstice. A touch of the old world, then –

we dance and hold our breath

hoping we can reach back into

our own beginnings with this ritual

at the expense of a goat, virgin, child.

We chant, sacrifice,

fall to our knees and pray

to know the secret.

The sun flares and burns on,

illuminating the night sky ‘til dawn.