In the dark cavern of December,
winter arrives and beckons us
to sit upon its stone cold throne,
circled by hibernating bats
and long toothed spikes of ice.
Shining with the rising sun,
Jack leaves his sparkly signature
on each blade of silvery grass.
Fireworks whistle past our ears,
lighting up the dark night
as sky-flowers, laden with stars,
blossom above the bonfire
in sparkling petals of starlight.
While hearts burst with joy,
November sets off with a bang
yet quickly fizzles in a flash.
In wild explosions of fiery colour
that fans our inner flame,
October’s woods are turning
into towering bonfires,
ablaze with free-falling fruit.
As leaves flutter and fall
we run around like children,
trying to catch them in mid-air.
As the last summer rose scatters,
the warm autumn breeze
tastes of apple and blackberry pie,
bounty from the Great Mother
who has given Her body willingly.
Drunken bees cling
to over-ripe, succulent pears,
feasting as the gathering begins.