Summer’s end The grain is safe the harvest in.
Greet the missing you’re lonely for,
let them know how much and more.
Hopes and loves and fears desires.
They’re comfort feel for these short hours.
Then the new year begins cold as a baby being born,
breaths and stretches on this morn.
Time to learn structure and the Oak King to go.
The Holly King rules for now you know.
Hunter in the season of meat
Protector of the tribe in the darkest of time.
Sleeps the Lady to her rest ’til Spring
and she’ll wake with joy and delight the earth growing new life bringing
fresh earth smell and new tender fruit, the youngest of life.