My Latest Poem

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Growing Daylight
Imbolc and the Goddess Brigid

The blush returns to northern skies
as sheep will winter-lamb when filled with milk.
Snakes pour out from bitter earth,
to watch for shadings interlaced in silk
spun-frost, on slopes that front the sun.
The bride of light will not be undone.
That maiden from the tender east
lays hands upon ten thousand lifeless lakes
and lifts fresh water out of ice.
She spreads her arms on snowy ground—it breaks
into a land of patchwork green.
Her knowing sisters then convene
preparing folk to make a living.
Springs of words begin to flow in time.
Fires braze an iron mind.
The fruitless branch still flowers in its prime.


For what it's worth, I will post my latest poem for 7 days on this blog. Then it will self-destruct. As always, any comments are appreciated. Very much so.