Bridget of Kildare Today I met Bridget saint and goddess at the edge of Lough Carra, ghostly in the early morning mist, dank sweet smell rising from spongy moss and damp grass. Under a horse chestnut tree I welcomed her and asked her to stay. Today I met Bridget saint and goddess on the road to Ballinrobe in my delight in bog and marsh. A cobweb shrouded wilderness this frosty morning when a pair of hares sniff the air and dangling Hazel catkins herald spring. Today I met Bridget saint and goddess in the children around me. Eyes brim with trust and goodness, they listen to stories of her love of the poor magic and miracles, her simplicity, holiness and generosity. Today I met Bridget saint and goddess in the weaving of crosses. Fresh smell of the earth still clinging the long green shoots evoked memories when families gathered at the table, bundles of rushes, mother the teacher, brightly coloured yarn a touch of gaiety. In the woman who asked for old bread, the stranger who played a few notes the warm cosiness of home, friendship, the smell of turf and making marmalade, in the lined-up pots of golden promise. Today. I met Bridget saint and goddess and she walked along with me. Anna Stanton