A Fall Rite Poem
A Fall Rite Poem
Crisp and cool is the deeping night
Yet still soft and sweet is the morning dew
Blood red berries drip from old green yew
Chilly winds blowing in a sky still bright
Red and yellow and bronze and brown
Fields and forests are no longer greening
The land prepares for it’s great sleeping
Sleepy trees wait for last leaf to fall down
The good earth bursts with fruit and life
Shining apples, heavy vines and golden corn
The last birds sing farewell to a frosty morn
With ritual and rite, shovel, sickle and knife
I play my part in the great wheel of life
~ Juniper 2001
Related posts:
One Response to A Fall Rite Poem
Search
Recent Tweets
-
Recommendations on a good tattoo shop in Ottawa, please? I'd rather have a lady artist. 1 week ago
-
I bought the wrong kind of coals for the BBQ, I am such an airhead. 1 week ago
Recent Comments
- Je Ne Sais Quoi lupa
- Wordless Wednesday: Ask the Stones Admin
- Swimming the Sunlight Alison Leigh Lilly



Nice poem! Since our Mabon family dinner is being delayed, I will read this to the kids when we have it.
Blessings,
Hawthorne