Winter Solstice – 2025

Earlier this December I attended a concert by a local choral group, Upper Valley Voices. The promotional blurb for this concert series was “Sometimes it gets dark. And in darker times it becomes vital that we allow ourselves to be drawn together to share our light with each other. We must radiate hope, joy, love, peace & purpose”.

Even though these videos are sung by different choirs I’d like to share two of the pieces I heard that evening that continue to move me as we in the Northern Hemisphere head into winter.

Happy Solstice!

Season of Light
music and text by Jacob Narverud (b. 1986)

Come, sit by the fire, and share stories of old
Bright visions of time and of wonders, we’re told.
Surrounded by comfort and stillness of night
We live in the memories of the season of light.

Come join in the cheer of the fresh falling snow,
where wonder and radiance set hearts all aglow.
For a moment on earth all that’s wrong turns to right
and we’re warm in the spirit of the season of light.

Season of Light… music and text by Jacob Narverud (b. 1986)

Glow
music by Eric Whitacre (b. 1970), text by Edward Esch (b. 1970)

Softly falls the winter snow,
whispers to the sleeping world below:
“Winter tide awakes,”
morning breaks and sets the Earth aglow.

In gentle tones of warmest white,
Proclaim the glory of Auroroa’s light.
Sparrow sings in a clear, clean voice,
a sweet, silver carol for the season born.
Radiant wings as the skies rejoice,
Arise and illuminate the morn.

Softly falls the morning snow.
whispers to the sleeping world below:
“Glow, like the softly falling snow”

Glow… music by Eric Whitacre (b. 1970), text by Edward Esch (b. 1970)

Snowy Night – Winter Solstice 2024

Mary Oliver – Snowy Night

Last night, an owl
in the blue dark
tossed
an indeterminate number
of carefully shaped sounds into
the world, in which,
a quarter of a mile away, I happened
to be standing.
I couldn’t tell
which one it was —
the barred or the great-horned
ship of the air —
it was that distant. But, anyway,
aren’t there moments
that are better than knowing something,
and sweeter? Snow was falling,
so much like stars
filling the dark trees
that one could easily imagine
its reason for being was nothing more
than prettiness. I suppose
if this were someone else’s story
they would have insisted on knowing
whatever is knowable — would have hurried
over the fields
to name it — the owl, I mean.
But it’s mine, this poem of the night,
and I just stood there, listening and holding out
my hands to the soft glitter
falling through the air. I love this world,
but not for its answers.
And I wish good luck to the owl,
whatever its name —
and I wish great welcome to the snow,
whatever its severe and comfortless
and beautiful meaning.

Happy Winter Solstice!

Winter Solstice 2022

Wednesday, 21 December 2022 at 4:48 PM EST, my time… 21:48 UTC.

Bells
by Barbara Crooker

Here, the bells are silent, blown glass hung from
branches of pine whose fragrance fills the room.
It’s December, and the world’s run out of color.
Darkness at five seems absolute outside
the nine square panes of glass. But inside
hundreds of small white lights reflect off
fragile ornaments handed down from before
the war. They’re all Shiny-Brite, some solid balls—
hot pink, lime green, turquoise, gold—some striped
and flocked. This night is hard obsidian, but these glints
pierce the gloom, along with their glittery echoes, the stars.
We inhale spruce, its resinous breath: the hope of spring,
the memory of summer. Every day, another peal
on the carillon of light.

Barbara Crooker, “Bells” from Some Glad Morning © 2019 University of Pittsburgh Press.