when it is dark

when it is dark

cold air presses down
and night goes on

while we wait
by the sea
for the tide
to turn

wait
on a hillside
for a dawn
older than the days
by which winter
is numbered

carrying our
frozen souls
in the folds
of hope.

© BH, 2002

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It seems appropriate, now that it’s Christmas again, to share another snippet from the archives. I’ve been clearing up (or out) and found this among material from twenty years past. It originated as one of several astronomical poems I wrote for performance in Aberdeen Planetarium and which were later compiled by Gill Russell and myself into a collection of planetarium show resources funded by COPUS (Committee on the Public Understanding of Science).

This was entitled ‘Christmas’ in that compilation. Now, much revised, it’s here for Christmas 2022 - a small token harking back to festivities now past.