In festive fur and satin sleeve,
Wisping thru the snowy pine,
The forest dancers make believe
The gods renew their grand design.
The twenty-first of each December,
The shortest day its worth undone,
Each soul delights as each remember
The death and rebirth of the sun.
As nights contract and days expand,
As ice then melts and seedlings sprout,
New life will hold the world’s old hand
And fill anew each soul devout.
In darkness seeds of faith divine
With dimmest light are sown in strife;
Wisping thru the snowy pine
The dancers sow eternal life.
“Wisping thru the snowy pine,” five dancers emanate a feel of fleeting fantasy in this forest winter scene. Draped in richly colored bodice with festive fur and billowing satin sleeve, they lend an air of a sort of female Father Christmas. Beads and poms equally adorn their headdresses. As Father Christmas pursues nocturnal travels bestowing gifts, they too pursue movement of mythical proportions. In the beautiful but harsh environs of overladen snowy boughs, uprooted old tree stumps and icy streams, their dance miraculously appears effortless and unencumbered. They are the embodiment of the gift of faith. On the horizon of what appears to be endless winter forest, there is the breathtaking orange glow of a new day with the sun rising in the sky. On this December 21st in the dead of winter, the dancers remind us that we will yet survive and flourish with new life. If only we believe, fantasy will become our reality. Our faith is the seed of our eternal life, as joyfully expressed by this “dance of the winter solstice.”