you be happy at this time,
Even as the sun turns back again,
A simple fact, a symbol, and a sign
Some would find but little meaning in.
Out of what we see we make ourselves,
Needing to be taught that ancient art.
Souls born when the woods were full of elves
Give lessons in the shaping of the heart.
Reason now supplies an explanation
Equal to the workings of the will,
Exact in each elliptical equation
That would all cant and superstition still.
In numbers, though, there is great mystery,
Nor is what we measure what we see,
Giving space for poetry and dance,
Song and celebration, choice and chance.
Copyright by Nicholas Gordon