A frosty night,
An Imbolc Moon,
Thin and needle-sharp,
Slices through bare branches of the trees.
Winter's grasp,
Grows weaker by the hour.
And, in the silence,
The whispers of creation
Echo through hill and valley.
And into every burrow and nest,
Patiently awaiting what will be…
The wheel turns, of life and death
The stars above, the ground beneath…
And under skies of midnight-blue
The world is new.
A still Spring night,
A Beltane Moon,
Sails through the stars,
Sending soft shadows dancing
On dew-soaked, silver-dappled grass.
A bird breaks the silence with liquid song,
Flying on dusky wings
Into the darkness
Of the midnight sky.
The wheel turns, of life and death
The stars above, the ground beneath…
The blackbird sings his sacred song,
The world is young.
A Summer night
A Lammas Moon,
Swollen and ochre,
Rides the Milky Way,
Pendant over fertile fields of yellow corn
Ripened by sunlight, kissed by golden days
And watered by soft July rain.
Nature’s bounty in abundance,
Every ear in tune
To the song of creation.
The wheel turns, of life and death
The stars above, the ground beneath…
Night winds sing their song serene,
The world is green.
An Autumn night
A Samhain moon,
Hiding behind a patchy shroud of fog.
Smoky air dulls the pallid stars.
The silent misty land, shadowy and still,
Draws down the secret whispers of the night.
Damp half-naked trees shed russet leaves,
Give back their glory to the Earth,
As they make ready
To sleep once more.
The wheel turns, of life and death
The stars above, the ground beneath…
Under a blanket black and gold
The world is old.
A Winter night,
A Yule moon,
Luminous and diamond-hard
Against glitter-strewn skies.
Frosted trees etch lacy patterns over cold December stars.
And in the secret places,
The wild creatures sleep,
And wait for Spring.
The wheel turns, of life and death
The stars above, the ground beneath…
And frozen in a wintry bed
The world is dead.
The wheel turns...
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