1 minute read
Jean O’Brien
Light the Bonfires for Lamass and Lunasa
The light is starting to withdraw earlier and earlier every evening, those summer nights that barely turned dark azure around midnight are shortening. This is now the season of Lunasa, we bow to the great god Lugh, busy our hands with making and creating, weaving and baking, busy our minds with half remembered longings, wild words tamed by time and use. Our hearts settling in the margins, once we strode surefooted centre stage, blinded in sunlight and golden wheat now we trip and falter in the stubble fields gathering autumn shadows, our days picked out in the half light. On some far hill a bonefire blazes.
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Jean O’Brien
51
