Snow-Capped

Out of the night sky, stars fall.

No one sees them, of course,

But they land, ground-cupped,

Soft as snow drift, sporting

Mantles of winter’s signature white.

They bring ancestors' songs and secrets

That shape themselves into wind

Made blustery with wishes

And swirls of flakes dancing

To the memory of moonlight.

In the morning, the world

Is all covered in sparkles.

This has been a winter filled with white. Not since childhood has there been snow-on-snow-on-snow here, and now there are piles even higher than my head, and everything is snow-capped. Winter seems to have its own particular brand of inspiration, and the season has seeped into my dreams and invaded my Muse Room as well. Words like blustery, chill, and shiver flow onto the page as I sit nestled in my desk chair, fleece-covered and flanked by feline affection junkies.

Outside, the Greenman in my garden dreams of Spring.

And the pipers played 'til the break of dawn ~ a musical interlude:

Right around the time of year when everyone is starting to don their seasonal frump-wear, the annual three day MidWinter Celtic Music fest comes to town. The band line-up was stellar, and a frolicking good time was had by all. A few photo highlights (with linkage):

Jamesie of  Albannach

Angus of  Brother

Will of Seven Nations

Never doubt the power of music to lift one's spirits!

Charms to Please Old Gods

Charms to Please Old Gods

1.

Bits of lace

And blood,

Clasped hands in

2.

Moonlight bonfires,

Hearth-bound altars

Of hope for

3.

Hands in dirt

And dragonflies.

Tree root wristlets.

4.

Firelight, masks

And lucid dreaming.

Opals and topaz. Burn

5.

Rosemary and thyme,

Oak leaves and acorns,

Shape the course of

6.

A Dreamer dancing,

Stones standing,

Shadows hung with

7.

Words sung, shouted,

Shaped and penned

With quills, until

8.

Smoke rings and

Twisted wreaths,

Carve twilight

9.

Candles and feathers 

And prayer.

Remembrance.

When in Winter...

 ~ When In Winter ~

The days are shaped by white,

The nights are long

Blanket-bound hours,

Clad in crystalline longing.

Shards of ice and shivers;

The Snow Queen’s words

All etched in hoarfrost,

Obscure the windows,

And echo, cave-like, with

Cursive blustery curses

And fragments of mystery

Barely kept at bay

By wood smoke

And remembrance spells

Chanted hearth-side where

Warmth ghost-sings

In frost-edged dreams, and tea

Drowns one’s throat

With a wash of flowers

And memories of Spring.

Happy Chinese New Year!