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The
coming of winter
[Irish
ninth century]
I
have news for you;
the
stag bells,
winder
snows,
summer
has gone.
Wind high and cold;
the
sun low,
short
its course,
the
sea running high.
Deep red the bracken;
its
shape is lost.
the
wild goose has raised its accustomed cry.
Cold has seized the bird’s wings;
season
of ice,
this
is my news.
NOTE:
in the Celtic tradition, the wild goose is considered the
spirit of God (the Holy Spirit).
click
here to add your voice
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