Imbolc

At times it seems

as though the world has died

when we gaze over graying snow –

cringe under thunderous skies.

At times we feel

no warmth will suffice

when the raging winds

bring stinging ice.

Still in this emptiness, we bear hope,

a tiny flame –

in sight of melting snow, the first cold rain.

Hovering clouds begin to lift.

We commence to dine on milk and bread

trading glances with words unsaid.

At times it seems

our world has died

until waking from our dark dreams –

we greet the sun with opened eyes.