" The songs of our ancestors
are also the songs of our children "
This was lovely, I felt the need to bring joy, I touched joy in such a beautiful way and it brought tears to my eyes.
Thank you for that, Phillip 🙂 I realised recently myself that Facetime follows different rules!!! 🙂
I’m out of sync with your seasons, but Self explorationand extension is useful in any season, I think. When we visited some friends in Edinburgh 2 years ago our Scottish host recited that very poem (from specially purchased Burn’s serviettes) as his delightfully entertaining preface to our first sampling of ‘the haggis’.. We snorted with laughter at his wonderfully gleeful and ever so Scottish rendition of the poem, and then dutifully ate our haggis.. In truth it was quite decent.. not nearly as upleasant as I’d imagined, but that may have been due to our enjoyment of wonderful company and local humour.
I wrote this short verse about 40 years ago, before I had heard the name Imbolc. Hope you like it
The colour of North in December
is bleached to fine linen in January:
February for the sleeper
is a dream of wild ground waking.
Softly, here is softness,
A babe holds out his pink finger,
Slow and with wonder.
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