Restitivities

A New Year Pantoum for when the lights come down

(A little snowy new year sketch taken from a beautiful pantoum offering by Pádraig Ó Tuama)

I am in a forest village filled with snow that keeps falling as fast as it melts

Slushy salt at my headrest.

The house creeks and breathes and taps and ticks.

The night doesn’t get dark as the duvet gets thicker.

-

A distant howl; a fox or owl.

Everyone is sleeping. Everything is sleeping.

It doesn’t get fully dark but is always mostly dark.

The same time as last year. Here I am again.

-

Festivities make way for restivities as the lights are packed.

We reorientate our bedtime constellation.

Here I am again. The same time as last year.

After the rest. What’s next?

-

A full twelve hours.

The floors creak with no feet.

I keep walking into cupboards that I think are doorways.

In a small house inside of a big house.

An emptiness. An empty nest.

-

‘The longing has things left to say.’

The snow whispers to my headrest.