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Still lie the sheltering snows, undimmed and white;
And reigns the winter's
pregnant silence still;
No sign of spring, save that the catkins fill,
And
willow stems grow daily red and bright.
These are days when ancients held a
rite
Of expiation for the old year's ill,
And prayer to purify the new
year's will.
~an excerpt of A Calendar of Sonnets: February by Helen Hunt Jackson
I hope that you all have a lovely Imbolc, Feast of Brigid, and Merry Lughnasadh & Lammas to you folks in the Southern half!
Sláinte!
Laurel
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