A festival of celebration
An ancient Celtic religion      
May Day, the Spring equinox
The Summer solstice
Happy heathens, pagan pride!
Honoring Nature, the Seasons,
The Elements, Spirit! Gods, Goddesses
And deities of our hearts
Childlike, we are, dancing around
The May Pole of bright colorful ribbons
Weaving up and down, as above so below
Offering flowers, acknowledging
fertility and abundance
Communing together in the Woods
Feasting with our friends, our families
Our Tribe!  May you never know hunger
May you never thirst!
We are many and we are of one heart
A sacred bon fire blazes in the night
of the Forrest, emitting its protective
powers as we leap the flames and
dance around the fire of our souls

The Sun doth not shown
A single black raven flown  
The scent of damp pine
Fragrant and divine
White and grey clouded sky
Breathing breath of altitude high

The mysteries of the universe canst be known
The sky dark blue and grey
How the wind did blow
I really enjoyed this lovely day
Knee deep in snow
Slipping around on the ice
Small running stream from the melting snow
Earth made to mud

Red Earth
Black Sky
Opaque Clouds
Lightening Flash
Raindrops
Mountain dew
Blue Orchids
Prickly cactus
Thunder roar
Green leaves
Summer day
Early morning
High noon
Sun shining
Flower gardens
Birds flying
Caterpillars crawling
Fish swimming
Flowers blooming
Lady bugs

I arose this morning to the scent
Of this season’s first rose

I looked in wonder and was shown
Buds of many, these plants grow

The buds reveal a glimpse of
All The more beauty it stows

There are three bushes, flowers to be
Red and pink, in rows and rows

One rose bush is my Father, one is
My Mother and the other is Me

These rose bushes were grounded to
Represent a part of our family tree

The Full Moon
Fixed, strong, pronounced
She sits just above the mountain’s ridge line

The Full Moon
All her magnificent presence
Is all I see while walking toward her    

The Full Moon
Untouchable and yet alluring
She draws me in to her

Thinking of the oracle,
     The trinity,
Witches operating at dark,
     Joan of Arc
     Men of War
the energy of rage
that leads to violence

The Full Moon
Is all powerful
She revealed herself to me

Compelled to write
Not by my will or even by want
These words, thoughts and ideas swarm around inside
Buzzing relentlessly like bees around a hive
Frantically making honey
These concepts force themselves out  
Not to my knowing what will be communicated
Yet I am employed to give them physical form
Much like a fetus exiting the womb
It no longer belongs to its Mother

Siting on the curb, head in hands
Everything he owns
In a shopping cart
He pushes across the lands

Despair and hopelessness lay at his feet
He looks capable but of himself, is helpless
Does his dog have water?
Have they anything to eat?

His derelicts can no longer be concealed
He is left a spectacle to all passers by
He lives a procession of downfalls
How far down the scale he has gone!

Perpetually hungry, always tired and often sick
Sleeps nowhere, really
Eats nowhere, really
There is no prospect for a shower.  Really!

Someone hands him a water bottle or maybe a dollar bill
From this gesture from the stranger
He becomes equally grateful
As he is ashamed

Deprived of a sense of belonging within a community
Rather, he is harassed by others living on the streets
He does not have a family, and
Is incapable of acquiring and maintaining lasting friendships

Absolutely alone
Truly suffering
Was it his choices or was it circumstance?
Because he suffers, the whole of humanity suffers