Solstice

On the winter solstice, the sun's not all that's still.
On visits to distant family, we're oft afraid that we'll
Upset the tree, or some balance, someone.
We make hardly a move as we try to have fun,

and the time makes us lazy, stays still in our minds.
We grow used to days short and weather unkind,
Until one day, half-way to spring, the sun wakes us.
It's early, we're still half-asleep, but the light takes us

Back to cookouts and baseball, the summer state of mind,
Half-thought and breathless and twice out of time.