I woke up this morning to a white world. Snow is so unusual in this part of the country – close to the Atlantic Ocean and with no mountains in the area – that it merits a short poem:
The landscape bathed in light
Silhouettes the dog.
My breath catches,
Escapes, a visible surprise.
Ice bursts under heel.
Today is Imbolc, which is an agrarian festival associated with the lambing season. In Ireland it’s also known as Lá Fhéile Bríde, and is still celebrated in Kildare as a week-long festival dedicated to Saint/Goddess Bríde.
Bríde is associated with smithcraft, poetry, and fire, and so February 1st is an appropriate day to compose a poem.