Today is the feast day of Saint Brigid; for more historical information, see this blog post. I've written about her before, and one of my poems about her was published in Adanna (you can read it in this blog post). This morning, I thought I'd write a new poem about her, but it isn't turning out as expected.
Actually, I didn't have much in the way of expectations, so maybe it is turning out that way. It doesn't mention Saint Brigid yet, but maybe it will. I am trying to create a poem that weaves together cold winter nights, monks arising early to pray, a woman getting up in the middle of the night to check on dripping water to keep the pipes from freezing, and distant stars.
Hours later: I started writing this morning, and then I zipped here and there to other writing, other activities, like bread baking and cookie making. It's been a good morning, and I don't regret this incomplete blog post.
And now I must get ready to go make Valentines. It's a community activity, and I have no idea how many people will come to join me. But I know that there will be a few, and that's good enough.
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