An Offering at Eventide

Wind-borne October;
our love in your evergreens
then felled like lost trees.

Quietest autumn,
sweep us over those seas
to the woods of home.

Ancient November,
over feasting and loving,
quell the coming storms.

Dead December, nigh,
take us through the winter dawn
and up to the sky.

January gates,
burst forth for the coming of
our hibernation.

A year on the wind
whirled about our kin, your love,
a distant seraph.

Come February,
tender holidays again;
the raising of ice.

March and April now,
Ostara, a vernal birth,
sunlight and our mirth.

Walpurgis in May,
Midsummer near June’s closure;
embrace these warm days.

Song and dance, we are
enveloped in your sweet trance;
September, ride forth!

October again.
The wheel has shifted and turned;
now home, there is rest.

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