Last night as I lay in my bed, just outside my house
I heard the familiar patter of her footsteps
As they mingled with the rustling crimson and golden  "fallen of  just yesterday"

I leave my window open, waiting
To breathe in her delicious scent, that heavenly bouquet of
Upturned earth and crisp cool air that's been kissed by Gulf of St. Lawrence

Oooh, she's arrived

Her full hips, gracing Horns of Plenty, sway as she shimmies and struts about our island
Gathering firewood for Samhain and climbing the birch, the poplar, the maple
Adorning their leaves with Byzantine colours, cinnamon and mustard

Oooh, she's arrived


And as Islanders dream of abundance, she slips in through cracks and crannies
To sample pickles and jams
And to bless every farmer and their harvest as they sleep

Oooh, she's arrived and she calls to us to celebrate, to lift up, and give thanks!