Poem for Imbolc

A pale face emerges

from the abyss, wordless,

smiling, flowers growing

from the places where

she steps

Bards throw coins

at her feet, pick the buds

traveling in her path

She triplicates, rejoins

wielding hammer and

quill

Her lips part, spill

verse onto the Earth

creations burns in her

emerald eyes--smolder,

muse, smolder