The Golden Threads of February

Chapter Two of Enchanted Simplicity: A Year of Poetic Living

Ink-Stained Compass is the weekly newsletter of poet and witch, Caitlin Gemmell. If you are new here, welcome, and if you are a regular reader, welcome back! Thanks for being here. This week’s letter is for paid subscribers but there will be a little something for everyone before the paywall. Enjoy! 😊

first, a poem

Becoming Sunshine

when the sun hides 
and we blink 
and miss his shy flirtation
and our skin feels 
porcelain cold
from wanting

we can create
our own warmth

there are many ways
such as lighting 16 candles
one for each day until spring's arrival

we can paint our walls butter yellow
knit a meadow of dandelions scarf
suck on butterscotch candies

and feel the color warming our bellies
buy a bouquet of ribbon tied daffodils 
clean the kitchen sink with half a lemon
and breathe in the sun-ripened fragrance

even wear the color of sunshine
a signal to the grey that light
isn't quite as elusive as some believe

we can smile until joy returns
encourage the sun to stay longer
by reflecting his light back to him

Photo by Alesia Kazantceva on Unsplash

The Golden Threads of February

For weeks I discovered metallic-gold threads, tiny stowaways on my clothing. At first, I couldn’t fathom where these threads came from. I couldn’t find anything in my home to match them.

The mystery of the gold threads was solved when I witnessed the cat my son and I were tending playfully attack our neighbor’s altar cloth and, in the process, loosen a gold thread.

This altar cloth was on a table that housed beautiful photographs of people my neighbor loves, tiny statues, and a thriving plant. How wonderful that pieces of something holy ended up embedded in my clothing.

Gold threads, little glimmers of light in the darkness, kept appearing for me this month. I held onto those golden threads, allowing them to carry me back to the light, to joy.