into the dark

I know that I used this poem for a Friday during the winter of Westminster, but it captures the juxtapositions of this season well enough to repeat it.   As onward we go, emptying the garbage, rehearsing the notes--breathing through the hopes/fears and triumphs and darkness....still singing.

 A little girl is singing for the faithful to come ye
Joyful and triumphant, a song she loves,
And also the partridge in a pear tree
And the golden rings and the turtle doves.
In the dark streets, red lights and green and blue
Where the faithful live, some joyful, some troubled,
Enduring the cold and also the flu,
Taking the garbage out and keeping the sidewalk shoveled.
Not much triumph going on here—and yet
There is much we do not understand.
And my hopes and fears are met
In this small singer holding onto my hand.
Onward we go, faithfully, into the dark
And are there angels singing overhead? Hark.

"December" by Gary Johnson