The Omen Days

The Omen Days are upon us. These are the classic twelve days of Christmas from today, St. Stephen’s Day to Epiphany, the feast of the Three Kings. These are the in between days of the winter feast, that include the liminal time of the New Year.  This whole winter tide is a threshold place, from pale glimmering of dawn on winter solstice until Epiphany. Oh, how I love that word. Would that we would all have a healing or self-improving revelation.

But I digress. The Omen Days. In former times, it was the custom of folk to look for portents of the future year.  I expect they would be looking at how the birds and beasts were behaving to judge weather patterns and consider harvest yields.  So seeing snowdrops in flower in our raised beds yesterday, did make me wonder if that would count as an omen.

Now that we are no longer mainly an agrarian society (although the masses depend upon them for the food they consume) we look at tarot cards, or read runes, or take a line from a poem or the Bible, and figure out the omen from them.  What I like to do is see what random thing crops up early in the day. Even what first occurs. So waking to a cat on your lap (even if you had dreamed of her the night before) does not quite cut it. Although, Sparkle is really my dear husband’s cat, but we are seeing a subtle realignment of cats with Felix is gravitating towards Tony and Sparkle attaching herself to me. But that has been happening over the past week, so doesn’t quite qualify I feel.

In the end it was early rising well before dawn and using a new Christmas present from a friend, bought explicitly to respect the velvet darkness of the amrit vela, these ambrosial hours when our soul calls to us. It is a pen with penlight for writing in the dark.

Two poems for the Poetry Daily today, since I reckon that my Omen Day offering will probably take the form of haiku over the next twelve days. Although that may change. One must respect the random. Also, I may be posting later than usual. It is all down to how the omens roll.

Omen Days

Read the runes!
What's in the cards?
How will the clouds form our future
from the present shards?
Collect the portents
in fevered times where fear
and uncertainty foment.

The old is not quite done.
The new not yet begun.

We feast and slumber in dreams
where we feature as heroes
just like those we watch
in our holiday films.

Deep down, we are all listening
for our call to adventure,
but we want to be heroes
without fear of any censure.

The old is not quite done.
The new not yet begun.

Collect the portents.
We are heroes all,
even if we think
we are only small.

Mighty oaks begin
with acorns who fall
on fertile ground.
They gain strength and girth
straight from Mother Earth.

The old is not quite done.
The new not yet begun.

Copyright 2018 Bee Smith

Omen Day 1
St. Stephen's Day, 2018

Writing in darkness
Wand - without phoenix feather

Copyright 2018 Bee Smith

May the omens be with you!

Featured image Photo by Nikhil Mitra on Unsplash

2 thoughts on “The Omen Days

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