On Saint Brigid's Eve

On St. Brigid’s Eve the house stays still

Cold pressed tight against the pane

We set out cloth by habit and will

And ask the dark not to break our name

The fire remembers what we forget

Milk on the stove bread rising slow

She walks these rooms with mercy yet

Where tired hands learned how to sow

We do not ask much just warmth to hold

A steady road a faithful sign

For hearts get weary before they get old

And hope needs tending same as a vine

Come morning winter may not leave

The fields still bare the sky still wide

But something passed on St. Brigid’s Eve

A quiet blessing that stayed inside.

#StBrigid