Bridget twirls in a hill top meadow,

        Her swirling white skirts cast spirals of power

        While Her fingers fling spinning sunflowers high into the air

                Transforming,

                In a twinkling of an eye,

                Into healing spells blessed by honey

                    And Her own beating heart.


    Midgard breaths deep.


    The Heavens hold their breath.


    It is time.


    Bridget’s silent call carries on the winds

        Into every window and door,

        Into every highway and alley,

        Into every nostril and heart.


    It is time to awaken from our troubled sleep.

    It is time to dwell in beauty.

    It is time to claim healing.

    It is time to embrace a life lived in wonder and joy.

    It is time to celebrate the rich harvests of the Good Green Earth.

    It is time to live together in peace and plenty.


    Midgard breaths deep.


    The Heavens hold their breath.


    It is time.

Bridget Twirls


Donald L. Engstrom-Reese

© 2006