The Borrowed Days
Storm waltzes fill the air with thunder;
Lady Winter, Mother Summer, I watch
Your dance in awe.
The snow blankets us one last time;
Cailleach blesses us with one more
wrapping of Her shawl.
Brighid’s sun, shining bright,
Dancing high above to warm our faces.
To you, I lift my arms and twirl.
Winter’s breath is in the last of its paces.
The Borrowed Days are here at last,
When Winter bows Her head to Spring.
Storms and shelter, flowers and snow,
Both seasons shall have a fling.
—Poems From a Pagan Heart
Miya Kressin
Witches Of The Craft® 