Brigid is getting a real dusting off this year. The pic is more her spring mode.
On a wintry hill, she stands,
Where waves of fire lap the snow.
Grinding her heel in the fire-soft mud,
Rivers rise from the cold snow source,
While deep within the sleeping earth,
Seeds stir, swelling in the sappy spring scents.
She raises an arm, steel bright,
Sword flashing, fiery defender,
With healing in her slender fingers.
The wind fans the flames that tangle her hair,
Breathes her name, winter fire over the snowy plain,
To fashion it on a thousand tongues,
And the reeds on the lake whisper the song she sings,
The song of the earth as it was,
As it is,
And as it always will be.