Shortest is the day, and longest the night.
The coveners signal each other by candle,
By calls, by Calliope’s various voices.
Hymns for the shortest day, Canticles for the
Longest night. How many cauldrons bubble tonight?
 
How many burning herbs send their now-spirited bodies
Through our cold, clean, confident Winter air? How many
charms
Are being given their wings at this moment, to flap and
float
On the faith that the anti-length of Day has meaning,
As does the length of Night?
 
Will you naked with me, Sisters Us, Brothers We?
Will you pour a brightviolent libation to warm
This cold, longest night? Did you herb, and hurry,
And howl, and harrass this shortest day to reveal
The secrets of its measure?
 
Will you naked with me, shortest Sister Sun,
Will you naked with me now, longest Brother Moon?
Will our howls convince you?
Will our Polyhymniations move you?
Will our cauldrons satisfy you?
 
Shortest is the day, and longest the night.
Souls, ‘tis an Erato night, to be sure.

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Be safe. Be warm. Be well