Hiking on the Winter Solstice

Hiking over North Mountain on Winter Solstice

The sun like a cold LED light, dead in the sky.

My legs leaden, every step a chore

I stop before an imposing ledge, 

Much too high to scale,

Too tired to go on.

Three stone sentinels offer me sanctuary

Ushering me into a secret cave:

A safe haven to rest and reflect

with none of Plato's shadows

to play games with me 

about what is really real.

This sacred space resolves all doubt:

Winter Solstice is what's real.

I submit to it's power.