Solstice Sunning
A meditation on the interplay between light, time, and stillness.
Along the lake’s edge, my steps fall soft on a worn trail, cold air curling in my lungs, sharp and clear. The sky opens wide above, framed by skeletal branches— bones of trees holding space for light to stretch. These hours of sunlight feel brief, almost borrowed, a quiet gift pressed between shadow and time. I move slowly, senses tuned, watching the sun trace slow arcs, slipping closer to the horizon. Then I stop, (a sudden stillness) and spot...oh! Fox, on a sunlit rock, body relaxed, head lifted as if tasting warmth; eyes closed in gentle surrender to this small heat, each muscle loose in a moment’s quiet pause. I linger just a moment, breath steady, heart slow, seeing (feeling) how sunlight spills over fur and stone, how cold air slips past skin and bone. Fox does not move, seems to hold time still, a quiet presence in the sun’s last grace, a silent offering on a cold afternoon. Leaves rustle faintly— a gentle sound that does not disturb, but reminds me of passing seasons, and how light changes, how warmth is fleeting, and moments like this are rare. I watch until Fox shifts, stretches, then melts back into shade, disappearing softly among roots and earth, leaving only sunlight behind, warm and waiting on the rock.
Author’s Note
I wrote the beginnings of this poem some years ago after a quiet walk around a lake with a friend in early winter. I was struck by how brief daylight feels around this time of year, how the cold air sharpens everything around me, and how the sky seems to open up in a way that’s both vast and intimate.
The short time with the fox came from real encounters, or at least moments close to it. Around the lake turtles bask in any sunlight they can find on rocks and dead branches sticking out of the water. Also, seeing our cat so still and peaceful in a patch of sunlight made me pause and think about how small moments like that can hold so much meaning. It felt like a brief pause in the rush of life, a chance to breathe and simply be present, which cats seem to know how to do instinctively.
I hope that you felt a little of that calm and connection when you read my poem, and maybe notice moments of warmth and light in your own day-to-day lives.
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