Rain prayer to the Dagda

Rain down, o Father!
The grass is yellowed,
the cattle thirsty.
Small birds cry for you

to dip the ladle
into your cauldron
and with a sharp shake
set the jewels to fall.

Rain down, o Father!
Your club low, dragging
makes thunder’s rumble
and slakes the streambed.

Oak of Two Blossoms —
pluck its strings and sing
the chorus of frogs
the tune of the marsh.

Set the frogs to sing
and insects to hum
your coming — sing out
to rain’s percussion.

A processional —
pageantry of green
awaits, if you come.
Rain down, o Father!

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About whitecatgrove

The musings of a Druid priestess, singer, poet and musician in Upstate New York.
This entry was posted in poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Rain prayer to the Dagda

  1. Pingback: Thunder: The Herald of Spring | Rambling Druid

  2. Sean MacDhai says:

    I love this poem! I quoted a verse in my post about the Dagda and Spring 🙂
    http://seanmcdh.wordpress.com/2013/03/20/thunder-the-herald-of-spring/

  3. Pingback: Thunder: The Herald of Spring | witchcraeft

  4. Pingback: Thunder: The Herald of Spring | old craeft, new world [closed]

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