I have news for you:
The creek swells, ducks dive, the dry time has gone.
Trees tremble in winter storms, deep green the land;
Shadows long, sweet the sun, warmth wanted.
The hawk sings in a sapphire sky.
On the ground, souls quicken, breathe clouds.
This is my news.
As we move into the early spring and toward Brigidtide, poetry again enchants me. This was written after the evocative ninth century Irish poem, which you can read here. The photo was taken on a chilly late afternoon walk after much rain. With the goddess Brigid on my mind, she seemed to appear in my image, her breasts, her belly, in the holy water. Yes, she rises.