Brigit

Sweet as the sunrise,
She is a dancing shadow alight,
She crosses a forest swiftly,
The is both peace and fight.

The sunset brings about another form of her -
She is the foam of the days,
She is a miracle of femininity.
And her golden hair sways.

Priests try to oust her out of the woods,
However her spirit is adamant,
So she points to the Midsummer meadow
With a smile and a cobweb of her merciless look.

Poems and songs,
Witchery and dance,
Building and ruination
Are conveyed by her

In her Parisian blue eyes.

*This is a tribute to one of the central figures in Old Germanic/Celtic myths - Brigit, wisdom and crafts deity.

In a way she is similar to the Greek Athena or Artemis, however her cult not only involved agrarian cycle observations, but also low-scope hunting and spontaneous Celtic/Germanic folk dance events.

Her day is the February 1st,

which might be confused with Imbolk - yet another European pagan festival.