Category Archives: Rachel Swirsky’s poetry

A Haiku for Monday, December 5th

Soon, the cold solstice

will spin us back toward the sun.

Until then, I nest.

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Winter-whitened sun
makes a cold, pretty morning–
gentle, short-lived light.
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The cold that nestles,
knits a blanket, lights a fire,
turns you toward yourself.
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The cold rain shivers.
I dart, indoors to indoors,
generous shelters.
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The cold rain shivers.
I dart, indoors to indoors,
generous shelters.
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God, it is so dark.
My throat closes like the night,
kaleidoscopic.
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At five, the sky rusts.
My stride matches my husband’s,
a shared metronome.
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At five, the sky rusts.
My stride matches my husband’s,
a shared metronome.
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The sky is no clock.
My body wants to obey
its demand for sleep.
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The sky is no clock.
My body wants to obey
its demand for sleep.
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