all of nature tucks up warm,
in burrows and in trees,
when the oak gives way to the holly king,
we hear the blackbird sing.
farewell, to another summer.
Now we lay down to rest.
Until this barren land re-blooms,
We wait for his behest."
in this time where all must die,
we look to his rebirth.
When darkness pervades the waning light,
our great Mother grows an aeon.
wrinkle claims a thousand years,
of knowledge and of love.
She watches as we reap the fields,
and stares into the bright future.
her lords joyous rebirth,
she looks for her doting partner.
In shady groves and autumn winds,
No memories will she ever rescind.
time has come for dwindling of life,
with progression to rebirth.
And so the cycle goes on and on,
including this bittersweet Mabon.
© Ash 2005