Mistletoe kiss

We’ve done it.  We’ve made it.  Winter solstice.  The year spins, and spring renews the promise to return.

Today I let my thoughts wander over romantic and slightly creepy poetry, with a visual meditation on wild mistletoe found on a winter walk.

Mistletoe
by Walter de la Mare

Sitting under the mistletoe
(Pale-green, fairy mistletoe),
One last candle burning low,
All the sleepy dancers gone,
Just one candle burning on,
Shadows lurking everywhere:
Some one came, and kissed me there.

Tired I was; my head would go
Nodding under the mistletoe
(Pale-green, fairy mistletoe),
No footsteps came, no voice, but only,
Just as I sat there, sleepy, lonely,
Stooped in the still and shadowy air
Lips unseen—and kissed me there.