Sonnet—For Solstice

Look: 
            My wife’s distended belly reaches 
Into the room as if it wishes 
To announce a separate humanity 
In curves both out from and into her body. 

Listen: 
            Darkness crackles the air like frost 
Or fire. We’ve turned from the sun and the cost 
Is cold air and condensation and night. 
Hear our wolves howl, our forest loom and bite. 

But Feel: 
            As future Jepson pushes out 
Against its close warm tomb of filtered light  
And voices, unaware, in mere days, doubt 
Will crowd in—part of our shared human plight— 

To relive the oldest pun in Christendom: 
And turn ourselves back to the sun, to the Son.