Imbolc

The Earth wears
Jack Frosts ermine cloak
It chills the bones
as snowdrops poke
They push on through
tough nuts to crack
Their white bells draw
the coming flack

The days are lengthening,
how it numbs
The gardeners fingers,
the forsythia will
With it’s golden crispness
spill

Resplendent yellow oft
fluttering snow
Falls from on high,
as the spring bulbs show
At Imbolc
some of that powdery snow
That lends itself
to a new found glow

Mugs of hot cocoa
with a dash of rum
To warm the cockles
and calm the tum
For lots of sheep girls
it’s birthing time
Their Milk is flowing
A worthy rhyme

Which gives those infants
good nutrition
As they begin
their sweet life mission
Seeds are stirring in the earth
The cauldron steams
with roots of worth

Light a candle offer a gift
nature’s cycles
Feel that lift
The sun may peek from
A well lit sky
But it’s bitterly cold
Which is really why

Down in these iron works
In the dank old earth
We enjoy the ritual
Of re-birth
And the fellowship
of the order, we
Join together perfectly

Part of the whole
And all of the way
To the great rock strata’s
On this Sunday
Clear Well caves
Mined for iron-ore
In the Forest of Dean
Where less is more

We watch our breath
Join clouds above
And feel that
everlasting love
At The rocks at Coleford
The echoing sound
Of being together
Underground

Sharing it all
In the chambers below
Out of the wind
And Out of the snow
Down in the bowels
Of the earth we stand
And We all feel warmer
Hand in hand