The land awaits me--
Bony hands that trees rattle to the sky
still clutch May-day ribbons in wind-bitten tatters
calling me back to life.

Women weave warm wool blankets against the cold,
singing songs of summer to warm their children
with the memory of light,
to sing themselves through this longest of nights,
singing me back to life.

The night draws a dark breath from the sky
pauses for a pregnant black moment,
then sighs in grey,
finally releasing a day
longer than the one before,
bringing me back to life.