acorns and leaves
make up his mind too
as foliage entwines ours
like bridges,
like walkways,
camouflaged in an
every-day of solitude;
these berries may not last;
his thought runs deeper
- deities of the core,
the spirits would say -
to old log fires
by weathered stone,
you, his old flame, share
but only when you think
we're thirsty, that is
you were never properly afraid of my antlers
in the grass that pierced our feet and the trains
kept on rolling by tracks I wished I'd made but
they would have flowed up trees to their branches
not cities where you hid behind walls, you were
never properly afraid of my antlers that I grew
in my dying days to sing in sways of our leaves
sowing a melange
of veined wafers
viridescent shavings
leaves upon leaves
chaotically neat
layered in tranquillity
for the theatrical show
of first feet
premiere wellies
curtain up at dawn
cue the early walkers
after a night’s forlorn
which unseen hand
spritely close
knitted the forest
cross-stitched floor
taking their time
perfectionist
preparing fallen
Jenga sticks
behind the scenes
but never seen
Jack in the Green
[paraphrase of a Svan folk song]
Tamar's mother said, "Tamar,
You were born fully grown.
Child, I saw you in a dream
I looked into the starlit sky and saw
That you were the village
And you were the world."
Love and loyalty,
You curve about my finger,
A swell of fervor.
At Stonehenge, poised for morn in deepest darkness,
We beckon Lady Ceridwen, our Goddess Crone,
And mark Samhain’s quiet, constant stillness,
To death in Yule we walk with magic to the stone.
Dark mother, wise one, heal us in the underworld,
Where the winter souls find rebirth in breaking sun.
It returns the fecund resplendence that it unfurled,
And warms the blood and bone with hope and passion.
We feast, celebrating, slaughtering a spring-born animal,
And dwell where ancestral souls wait solar rebirth,
We call upon sun god Esus to offer light’s arrival,
Brightening, emblazoning the cold and frosted earth.
Ceased in longest night, we linger here in winter death,
That we trust again the power of light, our shibboleth.
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