Brighid’s Flame
It is a cold Imbolc day in the countryside, and wintertime restlessness has made your feet wish to wander. Bundling yourself up against the chill, you don thick socks, warm long underthings, a heavy...
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Imbolc lays before us deep As all the world lies still, asleep. And in this time of seeming death, We’re livened by Midwinter’s breath. The celebration of this time Is done with stories, song and...
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