With elf in heart
and feelings felt
I float across the land
As moon is full
I bid adieu
with heart I over fill
As feelings swell
I bid farewell
to all that is before me
I reach out
to show my love
through no response is needed
Do not fret
for it is not required
Look upon yourself
with all desire
and you shall find me there
For I am one
as so are you
and together we are one
Im your ying
and you my yang
and together we are whole
Reach out
for I think that
the worst is behind us
Beltaine has sprung
and i feel young
to what I see before me
Love me deep
for we no longer sleep
as summer is before us

The wakened sleeper clothed in gold,
Warmed with Spring and rising sun,
Drapped in green and newborn leaf,
Who once had died but rose again.

Golden scales and raven hair,
Skin of blue and feathers fair,
Who began a journey by candler's flame,
And rose in glory in first leaf's show.

In comes his Bride the fair Corn Maid,
Whose blackened veil now glowing white,
Grass stains on her small bare feet,
And bloodied sword upon her back.

The dancers dance and singers sing,
Risen lord and laughing queen,
The snow has melted and green grows strong,
Winter then Spring give way to sun.

Veil of white over golden hair,
A cotton dress with playful tears,
Small feet dance as if on air,
She laughs in joy at his peacock flair.

Round they spin just like the year,
Celebrating life and new found love,
Love reborn from past the grave,
Youth and Maiden, lust and joy.

The time has come to start again,
A marriage feast and strong bond hands,
New life, new love, all is born,
Eternal love, past Death's cold hand.

Around the pole the ribbons fly,
Dancing round in lustful fun,
In honor to the fair Corn Maid,
And Peacock Lord reborn again.

Early spring just past Imbolg
And among the still-dark hawthorn
Garlands. Posies for Bride, white
amid the black thorns.
I make a mark on paper, a scribbled map.

In the set-aside a lengthy stretch
sparkles in strengthening sunlight.
Each tiny bloom a promise of dark richness
for later, when all nature sleeps.  Another mark.

Then I forget.  Put the map aside.
May blossom swallows the hedgerows,
Beltaine finds birds nesting,
And weeks on, at Lughnasad with its tired greens,
twigs snap and insects hum as I pass.

But Samhaine beckons.  I unfold the sheet and scan.
Muffled in scarf and hat I search for treasure.
Luxuriant fruit, not black but mauve and frosted,
firm to the touch and heavy in the basket.
Buoyant in the bottle, colouring sugar to deep red.

At Yule, with the birth of the light, the first taste.
It rolls like honey on my tongue and
I glow like solstice sunshine,
while among the still-dark hawthorn
She is sparking the life force.