Winter solstice was hardly a comfort, for those of us who
suffer from SAD
while enduring our endless days fading daylight.
A noose to the dread of winter, our shortest days,
and distant dreams for meaningful insight.
A hopeful snuggle at night, and even perhaps an occasional
full moon bright.
Chilmark hibernation in full bloom, yet barely a changing sight.
Happy to get a phone call, an email or a text to enliven the blight.
Then dawns a delight. A place to gather and enlight.
A summer tavern recreated to shine us some winter light.
Creatures of creativity conglomerate to share and rewrite
in a place of insight.
A blessed spirit, a year ‘round survivor, who shares the plight.
And she sets a stage to provide a place to share in comfort
within our inner fright.
A breath of days long gone, when the West Village was a fulcrum
of progressive delight.
And path to pave our ways towards the dawning of our
season of height.
Onward and upward we go, to our guiding light.
To the vernal equinox, where our lives seem to suddenly
feel possibly all right.
— Peter Simon