The bonfires of midwinter burn; <br />we conjure up the sun's return. <br /> <br />This is the black depth of the year <br />in which the seasons, circling near, <br />are pulled into the vortex; here <br />the bonfires of midwinter burn. <br /> <br />The quickening spirits of the Spring <br />whirl round their bright bewildering, <br />and with the energies they bring <br />we conjure up the sun's return. <br /> <br />The Summer's heavy heat and bloom <br />is swept into December's gloom <br />and heady ripeness fills the room. <br />The bonfires of midwinter burn. <br /> <br />The fallen leaves and fruits of Fall <br />attend us, and, as we recall <br />that grey rain's ever drifting shawl, <br />we conjure up the sun's return. <br /> <br />We gather round the towering tree <br />in whose perpetual green we see <br />this old earth's ancient potency. <br />The bonfires of midwinter burn. <br /> <br />The radiant necklace threaded bright <br />within the leaves reclaims delight <br />for darkness and within its light <br />we conjure up the sun's return. <br /> <br />Traditions ancient as the earth <br />tell how within this cold and dearth <br />there blooms miraculous rebirth. <br />The bonfires of midwinter burn, <br /> <br />and we lift up our voices to <br />the heart of life that will renew <br />itself in us and all we do. <br />The bonfires of midwinter burn; <br />we conjure up the sun's return.<br /><br />Robin Skelton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/carol-for-yule/
