If I can’t train her eyes to love.

This is a poem by Todd Boss. I found it on this Wisconsin Public Radio page when I was looking for poems to post for the solstice. I am a little tired of rehashing “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” (“the darkest evening of the year”) every year, and I liked that the NPR station pointed out that this is a poem about joy on this, the darkest of days. Check out Todd Boss’s poetry here. He’s a great new find for me.

My Joy Doubled

to drive my daughter
through the jeweled
morning light
this morning:

joy to sigh
“What a lovely morning!”
and see the glimmer
in her eye
in the rear-view mirror
as our light went green,

and joy to show her how
the ochre sunrise hadn’t
yet washed down
from the cross
on the steeple
at the top of the town.

The temperature
was three degrees,
the bank sign said.
“Wake up, old Mr. Sun,”
we called as if he were
our corner grocer,
not the ember burling
distant crowns.

A mile we rode in silence
while the nickle-purple
crystal of the world
was poured with light.

I need to think she saw it all
as it sped by —
the rink in spun
chain link, the outlet mall
in mist — and loved
the pinks and golds
as I do. She is so young.
If I can’t train her eyes
to love, how else then
praise the lapidary,
who cuts our days
like diamonds
from the carbon cold above?

This is a time of year especially focused on the One who polishes our days like precious stones and presents them to us, a time to polish our own special memories like the gifts that they are. May those shining gifts brighten this short dark day.

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