A Poem for Solstice

Carole Dwinell is a graphic designer and poet. This poem seems perfect to celebrate the longest day of the year.

MOONSTRUCK

from robinyoga.com

from robinyoga.com

i am
older and wiser now,
it’s true.

but i have a secret.
it’s the moon.
believe me,
it doesn’t just
hang in the sky
with footprints in moondust
and litter of rockets.

no.

it’s a cookie.

crisp, cold silver sugar
to melt

in my mouth.

placed on the skyshelf
and hid until dark

untouched.

then each month
you can eat it.
one small bite at a time.

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9 thoughts on “A Poem for Solstice

    • Thanks for the correction, which I have made. I used the same stanzas as I found them. If you want to send me the ones you use, I will correct those, too. My contact information is under “contact” up in the nav. bar. It’s a beautiful poem, and I’ve read it to several classes.

  1. Yes, I read poetry from time to time. I dip in and out as if they were rich treats, always ending my read with one I want to savour. This one, I can almost taste.

    I’ve always been a moon person . . . I’d tell my granddaughters, “If you look at the moon tonight, remember it’s the same one that I see and we shall be closer.” Except with a raging polar blast coming through, I doubt I will see it tonight.

  2. Poetry is a funny thing. It’s hard to put your finger on quite what it is. It connotes “creativity” as much as anything, but (this could be argued) it’s not that easy to find a poem that’s really creative or original. I can’t prove it but I think there just might be more people who write poetry than there are people who read poetry. You wouldn’t think poetry was about rules or filling in forms, but it paradoxically seems to stimulate rules-making; there are an enormous number of forms, types, labels, and genres. Some of the forms more resemble word games or puzzles than anything else. Poets are often tolerantly ignored, except for the ones who are turned into minor celebrities and asked to read their work on important public occasions. And when they do that, and try to write something *about* the occasion, what they write is (this could be argued too) generally trite and pretentious.

    Another funny thing about poetry is my relationship to it. I don’t particularly like it, I think most of it is lazy, dumb, and cheating, and although I’ve read a certain amount of it — more than you might think, by the way — I generally end up mystified by the critical reputation of the poet. Don’t even get me started on that overrated hack Dickinson, for instance :-). I think the total number of poems I’m glad to have read must be somewhere below 20. And yet, absurdly, I write some of it too, although I prefer to call what I like to write ‘doggerel’ (and yes, some of it has to do with dogs). I treat it more like doing a puzzle than writing, and I try for as short as possible, amusing, and rhymed. Here’s one about Cricket, the 20+-year-old alpha dog who lets me live in her house (*for now*, she points out):
    Terrier
    Napoleon.
    But hairier.

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