Cam ceilog – on “the quickening of the year”

Dylan delivers our milk,

Rich, creamy, butter yellow white

Blessed by mountain angels and Swiss cows

Each mouthful, pure delight.

It is 5:15 pm when he pulls into the yard

And Dinas Head still shimmers with duskling light

Dog days of January,

Murky, misty Saturday night.

“It’s as if the year is taking chicken steps” he says

The longer days are creeping into being.

Cam ceilog.

And he drove on

Much more for him to do.

This week gifted us Candlemas,

“Imbolc” as the Celts would have it.

Crocus, snowdrops, wild primrose

All peeping through the coming grass

Finca scrambling the old stone walls

And two daffodils crowning the cairn

On a windswept, frosted Carningli,

Bracken brown dejected.

Meanwhile,

Others also work long days,

On into the darkness

Injecting fresh hope

Raising possibilities of renewal.

Diminishing at least a portion

Of year long

Gloom and fear.

Salutations to our NHS

Raise a glass to

The milk of human kindness

Toast

Cam ceilog

And the quickening of the year.