What the Woodcutter Knows About Midwinter
The night is filled with frost, the start of a snowfall.
The wind is hag-ridden through the forest,
keening between the branches. In the darkness
he sets his axe at the base of the tree, notches
the trunk gently before settling to a knocking rhythm.
He sings candles and baubles into the air,
spins out the notes into the evergreens
and the holly berries, so blood-bright.
He sets the needles quivering, fills the hollows
of old nests with golden winter songs.
Finished, he hoists the fat pine onto his shoulder.
His reindeer-skin jacket pads him against the weight.
He pauses, a dark bird-shape on the cusp of flight.
Certain they are still listening,
he thanks the old Gods for their green benediction.
Then follows his own footprints, back towards the light.
Penny Blackburn‘s work is in many journals and anthologies. She was Forward Prize nominated in 2025 and was the winner of Poetry Tyne 2024. Her collection, Gaps Made of Static, is published by Yaffle Press. Facebook @penbee8
The Approach of the Cailleach
the hazel’s green heart
fades at my touch
slips to a spotted ochre
mistress of abscission
I exhale pure frost
force the shedding
of the leaf
even the sun in its tracks
stops short —
the dark night lengthens
and the wick of my veins
burns blue
snow startles
from my fingertips
and the word itself
embraces no —
two arms encircle
emptiness
in this white space
I work to preserve
to keep the dead held
in a coat of ice
to overwinter the hedgehog
and still the bats in the eaves
to curb the bud and the bulb
yes, you fear my coming
but to you I bring clarity
what now
but yourselves unadorned
straining towards light
Fiona Larkin was the winner of the National Poetry Competition 2024. Her debut collection, Rope of Sand, was published by Pindrop Press in 2023. The title poem was highly commended in the Forward Prizes. Her pamphlets are Vital Capacity (Broken Sleep Books, 2022) and A Dovetail of Breath (Rack Press, 2020). @fionalarkin.bsky.social Website: fionalarkinpoetry.wordpress.com
Note: The Cailleach is the goddess/hag of winter in Celtic mythology
At the year’s midnight
seal pups will lie
like laundry heaps
under a jostle of stars.
The flock will stand
in its corner,
the field in its flood.
The horned ram will leap
across our northern sky,
ripping its silk.
We’ll wait for a future,
breath clouding wet air.
Ruth Higgins lives near Tring in Hertfordshire. Over the last couple of years she has had poems published by Arachne Press, Ink Sweat & Tears, Southwark Libraries and Strix magazine.