What comments on 'Celtic Mother, Winter's Crone' poem? <br />In the time of dead leaves, <br />when wide-eyed things <br />frowned at sound, <br />and snow fell through fog, <br />a red berry circlet <br />crowned her hair. <br /> <br />When hunger stilled infants <br />and frost shrouded ancients, <br />wrinkled laughter dappled <br />forests, glades, fens. <br />Her talons clawed <br />life through death, <br />veil through veil. <br /> <br />Mother. Hag. Virgin whore. <br />Giver, taker, wise before <br />gods' birth. <br /> <br />In the time of black robes, <br />when men killed <br />for one mouth of meat, <br />she walked naked <br />on frozen fields, <br />and the earth <br />shuddered <br />its young <br />upwards. <br /> <br />Mother. Midwife. Woman. <br />She was breathtaking.<br /><br />elysabeth faslund<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/celtic-mother/
