Let us not allow the dark,
inside the hell we’ve
lived for months on end,
to destroy our light.
Let us rise and shine,
brighter than Father Sun
smiles on each new bud.
Feel the change in the air,
know that soon
we too will be released
by our keeper below,
into the morning woods.
Full Harvest Moon blessings to all! Birthed under Oaktober’s magickal full moon, here’s the postscript to my second poetry collection, The Shepherd’s Daughter, my very own “Red Book”.
Writing my second book has been an unexpected joy!
At the still point of this turning world
Stood before the great mystery
the poet calls life,
she senses something approaching,
which, as it draws nearer
the poet realises, is the plague.
Thrown into turmoil,
she tries hard to cut and run,
but the plague seizes her.
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.