I intended to post this yesterday, but various stuff (including forgetting the power cord to my laptop at work) kept me from getting it out the door. Enjoy a day late, in any case.
Imbolc Sonnet
Greetings, fair morning of flame rekindled,
when sun touches hillsides with burning gold.
Winter’s breath freezes; mortals stay bundled;
Crows meet in council; sparrows become bold.
Clouds command gray skies from far west to east,
yet blue presses through that moisture amassed.
Pawprints name travels of some ageless beast,
yet mud, imprinted, says winter has passed.
Cardinal sits obscured among ready pods,
eager to burst forth with spring’s profusion.
Robins sing their paeans to robin gods,
praising winter’s work of deep creation:
even when earth seems frozen, dead and bare,
paths to spring are made ready and swept clear.
