Imbolc

The days are getting noticeably longer  but the weather has still one or two nasty tricks in the "wolf month"...

Imbolc

This is the wolf-month, savage, bitter
The icy wind brings worst of Winter
February is harsh , cold and drear
Also the dead-month, the time of fear.
 
But new life springs even in the cold
Ravens build nests, larks singing bold
Lambs are born, new blades of grass
Time of light in dark, of Candlemas.
 
The Cailleach, old woman of Winter
Ends her rule, even seeming colder
Reborn a young maiden of Spring
Bride comes, birds begin to sing.
 
Bride with her white wand brings
Breath into Winter, awakenings
Dead Winter opens eyes to tears
Smile and laughter now appears.
 
The sun rekindles its fire, brighter
Spring, fragile hope of the warmer
Times, green shoots on the bough
New seed with spade and plough.
 
Plait St Brigid's cross, gift food
Lay on window sill for plenitude
Place in stables, bless the beasts
St Bridid's Eve is time for feasts.
 
Imbolc is here, the Celtic Sabbat
So light candles in every habitat
Celebrate the ever dawning light
Days lengthen, all will be right.