Snowdrops

It's a meaningful night tonight.

The Metal Rabbit bounds over in China.

Candlemas in Cristendom.

Imbolc for those who care for pagan ways or embrace Celtic notions.

It is particularly honoured for the Gaelic Celtic Goddess Brigit.

She was fond of poets.

So I share two with you tonight.

One from a long time ago and one from last week.

Ye Olde Proverb - which sounds most elvish if you try and read aloud:

Thig an nathair as an toll

Là donn Brìde,

Ged robh trì troighean dhen t-sneachd

Air leac an làir.

"The serpent will come from the hole
On the brown Day of Bride,
Though there should be three feet of snow
On the flat surface of the ground."

Apparently this was the first idea of Groundhog Day? It sounds nicer in Gaelic.

And this one was for my cousin, who left us at the beginning of the year:

The Nature of Reality

i saw a programme last night

on the nature of reality.

Scientists fired particles

in a dark machine.

The particles became a wave.

They say this means

there are parallel universes.

When the machine was watched

The particles went back to normal.

A singular reality.

You can't be watched anymore.

You're a wave.

You're dancing in sunlight.

You're laughing with your family.

You're teaching your children.

You're complaining about state pensions.

According to science.

So, I'm lighting a candle for people I love tonight and dreaming of snowdrops, the so-called Bells of Candlemas and small buds of hope, as we have passed the heart of winter and spring is surely on its way.

xxx