I rose before both the sun and the moon on this shortest day, early enough to catch sight of the balsamic moon rising through the trees. With the sky quickly lightening around her, she soon disappeared into the lighter blue of day. But here was indigo dawn magic, in the predawn chill. The incubating darkness this winter solstice is nearly complete, the darkest of nights, the fertile place of new beginnings. What do you wish to come during the next cycle of the moon, the next circuit of the sun?