The Morrigan

   
   
A swath in fires' smoke, the raven's call    
As thunder's drum, the last of daylight fades.    
   
The ancient songs drown rush of women's skirts    
Their hems whirl, billowing with strobes of dance.    
   
The moon eclipsed, the blood is risen o'er    
Upon the hearts this summer solstice eve.    
   
Melodic dirge of cauldron stirred by all    
With strike of dulcimer & fidd'ler's bow.    
   
The bright bravado quickness of their feet    
Step bare upon long, broad & wooden planks.    
   
Black-wing'ed ravens fly o'er village roofs,    
Their cries of strife to warriors in the hills    
   
Who forge their swords & bathe the blades anew    
In falls cascading down to emerald glen    
   
Where dragons circle low anticipate    
A feast the Goddess brings to them to-night.    
   
Her starlit eyes stare down upon the flight    
Of villagers who race across the valle,    
   
And manifests her messengers of birds    
Where wizards wait & hold the dark at bay.    
   
O Morrigan, your fertile sorcery,   
Should battle be your wish upon the land   
   
Then draw the fates your furies to us now,    
Devour all but let our children live  
   
And they will dance for you as we have done,    
In time, your thunder, to the beat of drums.    
   
   
   
Morrigan (music to inspire while reading this poem)  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E8LyfgvRhSM

The Morrigan (also known as the Morrigu) was the shape-shifting Celtic Goddess of War, Fate and Death. She also presided over rivers, lakes and fresh water, in addition to being the patroness of revenge, night, magic, prophecy, priestesses and witches.
   
This is entered in the DUP competition "Celtic".