Creiddylad,
strings of birdsong
pull your hair.
Creiddylad,
they turn your head
towards the sun.
Creiddylad,
your face is a gently
opening petal.
Creiddylad,
your footsteps call
the flowers from sleep
in hill and mound
and dun.
Creiddylad,
you are unstoppable
in your majesty
although a part of you is weeping inside
for the love of winter
who will soon
be gone.
Creiddylad,
do not turn back,
do not turn
back
to the darkness
of Annwn.
Creiddylad,
step into the light
of the spring sun.
From Peneverdant 