Seeds planted in the Spring
sleep beneath a blanket of Earth
dreaming of coming bounty
Slowly they waken
stretching their arms to the Sun
releasing their potential to the World
Goddess Crone cradles the crops in her arms
Holding them in preparation for the goodness of the harvest
Days shorten and Summer wanes
Her hair becomes unkempt
She opens her arms in eternal Embrace
Loosening the fields to ripen to golden beauty
The orchards to grow to fruition
She unbinds her hair
Relinquishes her hold on previously unseen hues
Filling fields with crimson-gold, carnelian and scarlet
Until it's time to gather her bounty into our larders
Giving thanks for the goodness
And holding vigil in our lairs through the Dark of Winter
No comments:
Post a Comment