IMBOLC fire festival 

Our people shivered deep and slow 
Winter devoured, eaten from the inside.

Some with black fingers and toes
Infected by creeping pungent rot.
They died by the score and froze
While we slumbered in communal cot.

Now our new lambs are ready
Milk flows plentiful, rich and fat
I weep to see the stiff green shoots
Peaking out of the frozen earth.

A different white as spring tightens
The seedlings struggle to push
Winter over the horizon 
Though still cold we mock 
With our feasting, fires and meat.

And I look through field, wood and stream 
In plain sight celandine, buttercup bright
A wash of daffodils, golden yellow
Carpets of snowdrops, sparkle white
Coltsfoot creeping by, primrose banked high.

©️ david/dai fry 5th September 2019.