BATTLE CRY

               BATTLE CRY

Winter rides in fast
On the last breath of fall
With a cry to chill your soul
A Celtic warrior's call.

Bright hues turn to sombre grey
Leaves tumble away in fear
Trees reach & bend in horror
Deadly winter's touch is here.

An old campaign to conquer all
We hide beneath the snow
From the rape & from the pillage
Done by the vicious foe.

When the last war cry has faded
And we dare open our eyes
We look above with joyful hearts
To lively spring's blue skies.

In faith & hope we build anew
Forgetting desperate fear
Until the Celts ride through again
In another year.
     --Shayla Kwiatkowski, 1986

This poem was published in CELTIC FRINGE J/F 1987