Our Northern hemisphere feels starved for light.
The Winter solstice ticks our shortest day;
It's drinking season on this longest night.
Spinoza's clockwork cosmos calls the dance;
elliptically, we're whirled from far to near.
No least detail is left to random chance;
each step's foretold within the solar sphere.
Beginning Winter as we round the mark
We flock to ski resort, or skating rink.
The party season peaks when all is dark;
we've learned it's bad to sit alone and drink.
It's complicated, living on this ball!
For now, we bid good riddance to this Fall.
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