Posted by: Peadar Ban | December 17, 2010

Advent I

I think I will post a series of Advent poems over the next few days, poems written a few years ago.  I am tired and and busy, too busy and tired to think of doing another series of poems, and these old things need some fresh air.  I hope those who do read them will like them.  This is the first:

Weak, the nearly winter sun rides low
Behind the back-lit pines. Long shadows now
Flood out of quickly cooling woods
And small dogs bark in small back yards
While mothers sit in oddly sunny rooms
Waiting for the day to end or to begin.

The sun, we say, is leaving us too soon.
Rising as it does now at mid-morning
It is evening before it’s barely noon
And our attitudes’ are mixed with mourning.

Still we know, we tell ourselves, of course
We do, that this is only natural.
The world of shadow, storm, leafy brilliance,
Of death wrapped in life is only Fall.

And what is that but one more bit of time
Brief measure of the everlasting song
Except that now one hears the deeper drone
Of loss below promise’s sweet chime.

A clump of chrysanthemum flames beside
The granite step, the not quite white front door.
The season’s last bee tries to fly
But cannot muster strength to, anymore.

What strange time this is, a strange time of year.
The sun hasn’t changed, just our attitude.
Against the coming darkness still to fear
Bright death brings life. We practice gratitude.

November 1, 2005


  1. Beautiful!! Thank you.

    • You are most welcome, Ms. A.


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