Monday, 3 November 2014

The First of Feb

The Feast of Saint Brigid
Announces spring.
Grass starts growing;
Birds start to sing.

The day stretches out,
Grabbing time from the night,
Enlivening creatures
With extra light.

Young Brigid is Princess.
The Hag is dead.
Prepare her garland
In the months ahead.

When hedgerows burst with blossom
And buttercups gild the way,
Then we’ll hail our Princess
As Queen of the May.

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