By Kay Augustine
Early in the time-hung space before the dawn I wait your rising Silently the horizontal clouds reflect your warming light setting all the lake ablaze and as you rise a column forms the letter i between us. You it was my forbears worshipped: Mithra, infant Sun God born of the Virgin Queen, the Mother God. At midnight on the solstice eve her priests emerged with torches from their inner sanctum, heralding the waxing sun: Behold! The Virgin has brought forth! The Light returns! Augustin feeding lambs at Hippo weaned his flock by naming their feast Christmas for the birth of him whose inner light has drawn me to this place, back toward your shining.