I caught a stomach-sorrow
while traipsing October’s fogs

I ate to nourish it
made a cocoon for it
laid it with slow reverence in a hollow

For fourteen nights
some cursed sleep’s been after me
while I’ve been up feeding on darkness

Don’t say a word
Don’t look in my direction

There’s something on my heart that can’t be lifted
– I give in to wintering –
You won't see me till the buds start to blossom

~ Ailbhe Ní Ghearbhuigh