At first, we must endure
the weak, wan light,
like a sighing
in the sky:
It was one of those chilly and empty afternoons
in early winter,
when the daylight is silver
rather than gold,
and pewter rather than silver.
-- G.K. Chesterton, “God of the Gongs” (1914)
Yet then,
a-lo, behold,
amidst the depths,
the harbinger of rejuvenescence:
This time each year, the sun doth wend,
signaling days-dying’s end.
Henceforth throughout the grateful lands
our daily dose of light expands.
Thus do we, cheered by this faint grace,
take heart for Winter’s chill embrace.
And though the brisk winds scourge the earth,
look forward to our Spring rebirth.
Christi dedico in nomine;
Gratias agimus, Domine.
