I step outside of feeling this cold, this wet,
sense the unspoken treasure of the rain.
It’s gems that glisten upon my skin,
awakens me from this sluggish mundane.
The enchanting chorus of the birds at dawn,
a world that glistens with the kiss of showers.
Black clouds loom with their menacing threat
to cast a veil over the Suns dazzling powers.
Dark night descends the wet has become me
command of the wind entwined with my hair.
Thou wild land is in motion its waters have burst
the promise of rebirth in all that is cold and bare.
The world suspends in a flash of blue
frozen in a snapshot of perception,
pursued by a roar of the great mountain beast
I wonder in awe at its conception.
Vast grey above reflect the cloud in my mind,
no inspiration can be drawn that is worth.
Words that escape akin to the solitary leaf
swallowed by the underbelly of the earth.
A concrete box just a view of the sky
I dissolve into the subtle blend of hues.
Twilight fuses into silver with a crescent moon slice,
it’s whisper softens my new year blues.
Deep dark morning, dawn begins to creep
illuminating beyond the horizon.
Silence pervades birdsong yet to call
beyond the shadows of the sleeping wizen
Wrathful black opens heaves its small stones,
obscures my vision as I search the dark road.
Thrown with its might I fear for my grip,
a storm of aggression echoes thy implode.
The flight of the tempest has cast light
its fire caresses the land into art,
alchemised the small stones into diamonds
and blown life into my passionate heart.
A midnight quest on Llangyndir moors,
shadows spill I’m devoured by night.
I melt into the beauty of the nocturnal sky
as I venture a glimpse of the Aurora light.
Lost in my fears, melancholy in my heart,
midst the beauty of this crisp flawless dusk.
It’s delicate weave of blue, pink and gold,
swathed by its tapestry a fabric I entrust.
Shadows descend with an insidious fog,
ghosts with icy fingers that suffocate.
Ensnared by its gloom its spirits possess,
is it rain that escapes down my face?
The sublime power of the golden morning sun,
hath renewed my vitality today.
The bare gilded trees, branches reach to embrace,
to be blessed by the divine I can pray.
A muted world beneath a veil of frost,
its touch captured butterfly’s upon my car.
Rivers of mist cascades through the vale
and tunnels of light breathe of realms afar.
Shrouded by impenetrable dark cloud,
the full splendour of the ethereal moon.
Yet its command of the tides is unyielding,
as the passionate calling within my womb.
Planting the first seeds of a motion,
upon this clandestine winters eve.
The promise of Imbolc in the air,
within this cycle of life that we weave.
The tumbling crest of its silhouette,
a gentle wave of a gracious friend.
Called to attention by a crisp twilight sky,
these nurturing valleys guide my ascend.
I close my eyes to the soothing sounds of rain,
its splish splosh splash, gentle creek and bubbles.
I breathe in its freshness reality shifts,
Talybont falls, the place that bathes my troubles.
The tender golden seduction of Brigid,
a sacred touch that arouses all being.
This maiden who stirs my innermost flames,
akin to winter arising into spring.
A chorus of birds that echo of romance,
its melody beats in concert with my heart.
The flawless glass sky illustrates their dance,
spellbound I gaze as they compose their depart.
Swirling mists clings as edges of dream,
silence descends and street lights captured,
parallel world of imperfect senses,
a jar of golden liquid light enraptured.
Musing under the gaze of the winter sun,
attune your senses it’ll release to you.
Dance to its melody, small stones in hand
closing your eyes to amplify your view.
The spiral dance of the stars flow through my veins,
the embodiment of nature in Gaia’s rule,
rivers of truth amassed from timeless rains,
cascading down to my deep mountain pool.
The curse of the dark season is almost complete;
embodying the rain whilst the words sound the same
Disillusioned by the same old winter breathing,
poised in lifeless corners of this empty frame.
Amid the torrent the bedroom tax crusade rose,
rays of hope to those weathering this storm.
Austerity battles, the tyranny of the rich.
In balance with nature, unity we form.
Snowflakes are a transient type of wonderful,
a brief flourish of their artistic display,
spectacular in all their brevity and then,
before you know it, their moment melts away.
Watching through my window as beads of rain fall,
the burden the clouds cannot carry any more,
replenishing the earth for the sequence of life,
transfixed in its rhythm, fluency flows though my core .
Layers upon layers of these fine textiles
a paradigm in this stratum of coal and stone.
Adorned with subtle hues of green and brown,
coarse woven trees and voile delicately sewn.
Cold cuts, trees persist as empty vessels,
clung to the earth that’s breath I cannot see,
thus unforgiving rain, ice lashes at the skin,
mindfulness struggles in harsh elements to be.
The steady progress of the black water snake
concludes in darkness with this new moon force,
elements that promise of a fruitful year,
as I transcend into the spirit of Dragon-Horse.
Amid this stormy eve of Imbloc my pen rests,
a light cast upon my journey of small stones.
A flow I’ve refined alas a purpose adrift,
a call to arms, weapons of pen, paper and tones.