Lines in Celebration of this Season
The grim, bleak thing
that took hold in my imagination –
don’t call that winter.
Don’t furnish it with snow
or hand over to its power
the grove’s magnificent withering.
I release the failing metaphor,
return with ease to this time
when the deep-breath dusking world
sighs a lullaby to its residents.
No mammal, the seeds in their buried
coffers benefit from a hard covering.
This is a pure and cleansing cold,
a revitalising dark, a protective skin,
a generous beauty with abundant promise.
Not indulgent. Nourishing.
Not the dreary, unkind spectres
that held me to ransom. The opposite.
With every good wish to all I have connected with this year in any avenue of life for peace and prosperity in the coming year. Go mbeirimid beo ar an am seo arís, mar a dearfá. See you on the other side of the calendar change, if not before.