Brigid’s Arrival

When she comes

She comes in the room

Like a gulp of cold air

A hurricane to the face

A slap so soft and sharp

So caring and cold

So great and so bold

So young yet so old

Every atom sings

This lady; this goddess; this spirit

This sidhe, from beyond the hills

She came to see

What you had put out for her

Sheeps milk, oats and apples

Whiskey, candles and hope.

She blasts through the door

A draught of delight

In spring’s awakening.

We hold hands and shake

As her powers leaves us quaking.

Motherly but not gentle;

Feminine and strong and wise;

Changing the world before our eyes.

The flower opens, gasps ensue;

Our hands beating heat

Back and forth

Across the laden table.