Imbolc’s fires have cooled.
Sunlight lasts longer each day.
There’s ice on the ground.
There are also seeds.
Waiting.

The cycles aren’t neat.
And often not pretty.

But they yield.
Over and over.
In rhythm.

Heartache.
Hope.

Closing
Opening.

Death.
Life.

They are all happening
Together
In us
Around us
With us

Together.