With Cailleach’s staff frost is sown.
The Blue Hag beats the ground in grief.
Her youth has fallen like the leaf.
Line of face and frozen breast,
No warmth, no milk to suckle the rest.
With this loss the tempests rage.
Creatures crawl from shallow …"
~ from the poem by Richard de Graeme
We are now in the time of the Cailleach. Winter approaches, Spring seems very far off. This is the time when bleak weather arrives, when rocks crash down from the heights, when wild unexpectedness happens. Join us tonight for Cailleach tales and poems told by the Cailleach herself, a taste of stone and bone and darker days ... if you dare.
Aoife presents, live in voice.
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