As Solstice Approaches

I am returning to my creature-self.
The tug of the night-season’s tide draws me down.
December nights
-Crackling cold
Wind moaning-
Finds me circling in my bed
Like a dog settling restlessly
And then relenting finally.
My half-eye open struggles against the sure slide:
There is nothing more that I can do
Or want to do
Except to yield,
Seeking what warmth I can find
And accepting what has always been.