Cailleach

Lo, the swell of brew-born speech
rising from some inner breach;
pouring forth like rich red wine,
art which is but Thine to teach.

Words that burn like blood from bone
echoing the voice of stone
calling ancient memories,
song of trees and chant of Crone.

Gift that makes the spirit bleed,
consumed by vampiric need,
Pen must scribe the flood to ease
Madness from These drops of mead.