Imbolc

So Imbolc has come and gone. The candle I lit burnt down. These cold days with blue skies seem so pure and fresh. So like my feeling for Brigit. So like the pure whiteness of snow and of snowdrops. So clear like a teardrop on my cheek in the cold wind.

Another year grows. My eyes open to another Spring awaiting its time. 

I wait too, but must remember that the moment is Now. That is all there ever is.