The Festival of lights brings the promise of Spring,
Amid the dire Winter’s cold sting,
Snowdrops poke their heads through the soil,
To herald the breaking of Winter’s bleak toil.
Our spirits are stirred by the waking light,
To focus our senses and strive for clear sight,
Bride the Healer and Poetic Muse,
Brings inspiration to conquer the blues.
The grain is blessed and ready to plant,
As we look ahead and plan the years harvest,
Joyfully we banish the word “can’t”.
We kindle our resolution with inner light
And know we have the power to make a solution.
Blessed Imbolc!
