A SONG FOR IMBOLC
 

Toss a coin into my well

See its coppery circle spin

Flash its fiery disc – a spell

To bid the springtime to begin.

Cold the wind and hard the ground

Crisp the frost upon the grass

But while my footsteps make no sound

A snowdrop blossoms as I pass.

Buds on branches, leaves tight furled

The catkins on the hazel tree

The stretching, yawning, waking world

I touch, and it responds to me.

Make your wish at Brigid’s Well

The copper glint buys spring begun

And through the thawing winter, tell

The promise of a summer’s sun.