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Imbolc
The city grey, devoid of green and snow,
Thaws only in the noon's thin light,
Invites us to the same thin, fitful sleep.
Since solstice I have been drawn into sleep,
Moved sluggishly, as if through drifts of snow,
Towards a far-off, half-imagined light.
The world is warming; so slowly grows the light
That the thawing ground without its blanket snow
Whispers, "Not yet...still let me sleep."
My sleep dreams of snow, and past it, new spring light.
The city grey, devoid of green and snow,
Thaws only in the noon's thin light,
Invites us to the same thin, fitful sleep.
Since solstice I have been drawn into sleep,
Moved sluggishly, as if through drifts of snow,
Towards a far-off, half-imagined light.
The world is warming; so slowly grows the light
That the thawing ground without its blanket snow
Whispers, "Not yet...still let me sleep."
My sleep dreams of snow, and past it, new spring light.
no subject
This is lovely, btw. Especially the last line.