Half-Light
Short days of winter now, and the sunlight neglects my garden.
This afternoon I pulled out last summer's tomato vines,
frostbitten and slimy to the touch.
Dead stems broken off at the soil
too frozen for the roots to be moved.
I remembered when my mother explained
that from the shortest day
onward to spring
the light would stay longer and longer.
My brother and I would stand out in the snow
silent by the back door
aching toes
and wait for dusk to fall,
record the time in a book
we called Secret.
It was February before we noticed a longer day
and by April
we had forgotten the vigil.
Now I stand
in the dusk again, and recall how
if we had not kept watch that winter
the darkness might never have lifted.
-Liz Kalloch
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