under brigid’s mantle

15 years ago, I wrote 160 pages of a novel under the identical name. Never finished. The book told the story of 3 friends reuniting after 15 years for a funeral in their isolated Adirondack town where druidic magic still flourishes. Each of their daughters were coincidentally born on the same day their best friend drowned in high school. And that best friend may be using their abilities to return from the dead to exact his revenge on the friend who killed him.

This poem has nothing to do with that. Just pagan poetry for Imbolc so generously and beautifully read by Simon Howard on Twitter.

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