Winter Magick

My dogwood tree has lost it’s blazing autumn color. Now the snow comering its branches, forming a lacy pattern of white. The little tree seems to blossom with woodpeckers and shickadees, who help themselves to the suet I hang there. As I refill the suet feeder, I see the first cautious tips of daffodils piercing the snow beneath the doogwood. Once again my faith in the eternal cycle of birth, death and rebirth is renewed. As the Earth Mother stirs, the quiet season melts into spring. Let the season of light begin.