Is what the astrologers call it,
this falling back into the darkening
months of the year,

leaf litter increasing underfoot
and, sitting between Earth and sun,
the invisible new moon offering

a quiet, fertile space to plant
ourselves in deep stillness.
Whether we want to or not,

it’s a time of excavation in this
introspective moment, on long evenings
at home, perhaps by firelight

with a book and cinnamon tea
to lift the spirits. Time to release
the need to appear presentable,

to simply feel all the feels,
as the kids say, in this dark,
bountiful pause.

It’s not another death,
I remind myself. If I can trust
the quiet, insights will rise

like the moon solidifying
in the sky, slowly becoming whole
and bright and clear.