Imbolc - a poem in honor of the Goddess Brigid

In a far away land,
where oak trees are sacred,
and grow plenty
Sun rays gently touch my skin.
A candle flame lightens my spirit,
Hot blue within, transformation is forged.
In ice cold nights of winter,
Your fire warms my being.
Your red fire mantle engulfs my body,
healing, changing.
Spring waters slowly absorbed,
into an aging body, charging, renewing.
Goat milk to you I offer, through an apple tree,
for a limitless connection.
Waiting for the bees of spring.
Blessed be.