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BRIGID

 

Ring, ring, ring, ring! Hammers fall.

Your gold will all be beaten

over sudden flaming fire

moving from you, the pyre. Sweeten

your cauldron, until the sun

runs with one flame through the day

and the healing water will sing,

linger on tongues, burn away.

 

From Eve


 

 
  Copyright 2009 Annie Finch