The Cailleach

Bride

Gulf of Corryvreckan

Glen Lyon

Tigh na Bodach

The Cailleach, Queen of Winter

Winter holds its breath tonight, and The Cailleach wakes by the Gulf of Corryvreckan.

She dips her great plaid in the whirlpool, her single eye bright with cold intention.

Waves slap like drums at the Gulf of Corryvreckan, and the air bristles, waiting.

Roar of the Gulf

From that thundering churn, The Cailleach strides inland under raking sleet.

She presses mountains from the earth, and new lochs blink open in the hush.

Snow hisses in her wake, pointing her toward Glen Lyon and old keepers.

Making the Land

In Glen Lyon, the snow's hiss fades as villagers pass Tigh na Bodach.

Carved figures sit by the stones, and The Cailleach's name rides every hush.

A bell clinks in the wind, and stories lean toward Bride's returning light.

Signs at Tigh na Bodach

With that faint bell still ringing, Bride steps from the east with soft fire.

The Cailleach lowers her plaid, and frost loosens on Glen Lyon stones.

At Tigh na Bodach, carved watchers face springward, and the wind warms with promise.

She nods toward the hills, and the sea winds soften to a kinder hush.

Yield to Spring

The Cailleach, Queen of Winter
By Pandi
2025
Roar of the Gulf
Winter holds its breath tonight, and The Cailleach wakes by the Gulf of Corryvreckan.
She dips her great plaid in the whirlpool, her single eye bright with cold intention.
Waves slap like drums at the Gulf of Corryvreckan, and the air bristles, waiting.
Making the Land
From that thundering churn, The Cailleach strides inland under raking sleet.
She presses mountains from the earth, and new lochs blink open in the hush.
Snow hisses in her wake, pointing her toward Glen Lyon and old keepers.
Signs at Tigh na Bodach
In Glen Lyon, the snow's hiss fades as villagers pass Tigh na Bodach.
Carved figures sit by the stones, and The Cailleach's name rides every hush.
A bell clinks in the wind, and stories lean toward Bride's returning light.
Yield to Spring
With that faint bell still ringing, Bride steps from the east with soft fire.
The Cailleach lowers her plaid, and frost loosens on Glen Lyon stones.
At Tigh na Bodach, carved watchers face springward, and the wind warms with promise.
She nods toward the hills, and the sea winds soften to a kinder hush.

The Cailleach (Beira), Queen of Winter - Story Book

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