All Their Voices

Words and thoughts in devotion to the Divine

Dinner with the Dagda

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I long to dine from your cauldron;

to be surrounded by the steam of good things cooking,

to know that the basic needs of body and soul

are being tended to in your care.

To be wreathed round with the savory scents

of roasting meat and baking bread,

the sweet scents of cake and pie and pastry.

It is good to know that none who dine in your hall

go away unsatisfied,

and to understand that it is your essential nature

to nurture, to guide, and to guard.

To sit at your table, to dine from your cauldron,

to converse with you over a meal

is to know that you care.

Benjamin Franklin once said,

“Beer is proof that the gods love us

and want us to be happy.”

(I think you would have liked him, by the way).

But I think, instead, that we know you exist

and want us to be happy

when we sit in company with you

over a slab of roast and all its accompaniments,

and drink of your mead,

and listen to the laughter at your jests,

and feel the warmth of your hearthfire around us,

and know that we have come home.


I long to one day dine from your cauldron.


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