Where Brigid walked


Day breaks and the rushing rain

is running rivulets through the grass.

Where her feet tread, water springs,

and speedwell, blue as her eyes peeps.

She walked this way in the dawn,

when the thrush was singing

and the sun a promise behind the hills.

She trod lightly where the iris spears

throng about the overflowing well.

She brought the sun in her fiery tresses

bedecked the fallen willow trees,

and from her swirling skirts

bright water ran and rushed,

shining streams of the eternal sky.


Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

28 thoughts on “Where Brigid walked”

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