Rhiannon rides the plains of Annwn
her wild steed pacing here and there
on other paths, near and far.
On our lands the light dwindles,
the Sun dips low behind the hills,
the night gathers darkness.
So we hold our vigil for Epona –
Gwylnos y Gaeaf – her steed stabled,
a stillness of waiting for what will come.
Her vigil is long, night after night
while the Sun is still below the horizon,
on past the Solstice, no shift in the days.
Until something stirs from the cauldron of night,
the slightest glimmer of light increasing,
the faintest rays rising against the dark.
Epona sits astride her mare.
We welcome the new light of a new year
and keep our hearth a place of cheer.