… comes this year’s Chanukah poem. I guess every writer of any kind has a few themes they return to: mine are the moon, the water, and flames kindled in the dark of winter. (Here are a few older ones.)

The First Candle

The blanket of winter darkness fell early this year-
the world was white before November was gone.

The lowering sullen skies betray no hint or hope;
they will not let us forget that midwinter
is still a month away – still a month remains
to grow the burgeoning dark.

This year the miracle of light is once again
in its timing – its festival falling
with the earliest snows.

I light my candles, taking comfort
in the flame’s tiny smoldering promise.

Also, I see I never did blog this terza rima from last year:

a winter’s hope
Wrapped in flannel, wool and fleece
a cup of tea to warm my hand
I sit, contented and at peace.

A cozy evening’s reading planned
until I turn to hear the news –
disaster in a foreign land,

too many closer who may lose
a home or job this year, and still
the ones with power cannot choose

the wording in the latest bill
to bring the ship of state to port.
In my snug room, I feel a chill –

Will this sweet world be torn apart?
I nurture, still, a hope for light:
a focused beam from allied hearts,

to make the way clear to our sight –
so all find shelter from the night.