Solstice moon

As Solstice moon rises 
between bare Jura’s  Paps 
A Keening  wind veers to the North
and Sleety rain assaults the Land
From stony sleep and slumber  deep
The Cailleach awakes

Striding down the slaty scree 
With cromach in her  bony hand  
A hooded head in mist is veiled 
Robes beat like bodhran in the blast 
and wrap around  her fragile form 
like  wet  sea kelp 

Following  in her wake,  at steady pace
Hinds,   new life in their wombs
Gather  round the Ancient One 
As she performs the solemn rites 
That turn the Wheel 
To Winters gloom 

Into the Seas , cast sark and plaid
To wash away the old years stains
Then naked , with outstretched staff
Plunged into the broiling surf 
The  Tide is turned widdershins  
within the  Corryvreckan

Columns  of water , hurled above 
from the broiling , swirling , 
Cauldron Seas
freeze into  Crystal ropes 
That Spiral 🌀 higher , 
Higher Into the Longest night

Then with a deftly reaching stave
From the sacred waters deep
Hauled in like laden nets 
Her plaid and dress retrieved 
and wound  around her
Bony frame 

Up the spiralling ice she skitters 
Chased by the Westerly winds
Dragging her plaids behind her 
A mantle of snow , left below 
On every Ben 
touched With her cloth of cold 

Then surefooted , the Deer spirit , 
Follows in her icy wake 
As the moon sets in the West 
In the East the sun returns 
Lifted from its deep descent 
Upon the deer mother’s horns 

Standing stones below her flight
Are lit with rim frost   traced
In patterns tattooed  
upon their skin , 
long ago , 
by those who knew the Carlin race

And understood the Gift  of Cold
Earth , Air,  Water , Fire  and Spirit 
The value of the Land , the Deer 
The Forest and the hill 
The turning of the Seasons
and the power of being still