
Rigantona rides through winding paths in forests of Annwn
far away, yet Rhiannon’s shadow haunts the empty woodlands here;
Epona retreats to the deeps of the worlds as the Sun sinks low in her arms;
There is mystery in identity and these are propositions that shift
in the darkness of Midwinter;
Here, in the Nemeton, the meaning is clear
as questions dissolve in her presence:
The image of her riding,
The sense of her dwelling,
The gathering dark as a candle flame flickers,
The hope that is held in the glimmering light,
that it will be re-born;
Brigid guards the hearth-fire
to release the ice-locks
from her silver streams
on a bright day
beyond this silent night.