Imbolc's Fire Poem by Eisenlord Karen

Cats start to stir; they fight then purr,
meowing through night hours.
They're looking for their mates who wait,
by early Crocus flowers.

A first peach tree, she blossoms shyly,
displays her blushing face;
the others are not far behind,
impatient, they can't wait.

Days won't decide to play or hide;
or, whether to be warm or cold.
Chilled breezes find a newborn calf,
as new green buds unfold.

Around the sleepy neighborhood,
so softly, wind chimes ring.
They're asking us to prepare,
for first debut of spring.

The Goddess comes to all of us,
transformed from Crone to Maiden.
She's given birth to her Sun;
He rises for our freedom.

A time of great celebration;
we've survived winter months.
Divine Infant nurses Mother's breasts,
as new days grow longer.

Shamans write poetry and heal,
while Nature is reborn.
We initiate new beginnings;
light candles to honor:

Renewing power of blessed Sun;
true fire's purification.
With festivals of fertility;
our souls' illumination.


(c) 2015 By Karen L.G. Eisenlord