In the belly
Up push the snowdrop
and crocus flowers
through forgiving ground.
Dark rooted,
heat-seeking,
star-bound.
Praise the great turning!
Endarkened seeds to coloured reams,
rainfall into crystal streams,
black-ash memories into
gold-light dreams.
Tree limbs on sky
adorn a breaking dawn,
each fuzzy bud, a note
in generative song.
Even big ideas start small—
can you hear the lambing call?
Imbolc as a word derives from the Old Irish I mbolg meaning ‘in the belly’, a time when sheep began to lactate and their udders filled and the grass began to grow. Imbolc is an ancient Celtic festival associated with the goddess Brigid, celebrating the beginning of spring and held on or around February 1.
Wishing you and yours a good Imbolc!
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Wishing you a wonderful Imbolc too! Thanks for the poem. I like the idea of the flower coming through the forgiving earth. Somehwere along the lines I heard you could put your white fabric out at night on Imbolc for Brigid to bless as she flys by. I enjoy learning more about where there celebration came from and how it was honoured.
Praise the great turning!