Spring

Damp air, gray skies

the snow melts and freezes

freezes and melts

Wind has a tantrum

but bores quickly

We huddle in the fog

Clammy-cold creeping,

steeping, infusing,

dulling our senses

Damping, smothering

A longer gray day

isn’t much better

than a short one

But maybe the Sun

is working on it?

He has a good nurse,

His foster mother, Brighid,

who nourishes the young God

with herbs and poetry

to sharpen a growing mind

She will see to it

that He is strong and smart,

merciful but decisive,

loving and generous,

graceful and gregarious

The Smith shapes the iron

The Poet shapes the words

The Healer perfects the form

When all is ready

The Student shines