|"Ireland" by Emily Soto, fashion photographer|
The stone wall is old, perhaps not as ancient
as the glens of Glengarriff, Cork, but very old.
The path itself winds its way
past patches of snowdrops
and daffodils, past a few Oystercatchers,
harbingers of light in the yawning days ahead.
I can smell the sea but am not up to braving
strong winds, stick to hedgerows' protection
on the way to Church to collect rushes
to fashion Brigid's Cross I'll place upon hearth
for good luck and fertility. Tomorrow
I'll take candles to be blessed.
But for this moment, I bury myself
against noble wall, colonized with ivy
(a mad, victorious battle won long ago),
soak in the deep greens of February,
let it invade my veins, seasonally;
the reds of autumn,
which flushed my cheeks and spirit,
I've absorbed and my veins seek
another infusion of my ancestors
from this venerable, climbing vine.
by Margaret Bednar, February 24, 2019
This is linked with "The Muse #44" written to the image of "Ireland" by Emily Soto.
Also linked with "Poet's United #441"
Invade ... or infuse. Pondering.