A Winter Gathering!
Together for the Solstice gathering – under the early afternoon grey,
To escort the Sun-wheel to a closing – on its dying final day,
Nature sits at resting – as the breeze calmly stands its still,
The familiar throws – of Pigeons and Crows – free to play at will!
A circle of Silver Birch skeletons – stripped down to their bones,
Running about the periphery – forming a feature around the stones,
Snowberries levitate within naked stems – determining the Moon Garden’s face,
Interlaced with the Mock Orange quietly sleeping – at the end of its seasonal race!
Many varieties of Ivy captivating in the corners – the stones collect their Moss,
The hedging undressed of their veils of leaves – looking see-through with their loss,
The fruit trees showing individual signs of slumber – encroaching on Orchard Way,
While a sparsity of Songbirds sing in hushing tones – as they hide away!
A Buzzard’s call – it’s gliding rise and fall – a welcome familiar friend,
Delivering history’s tail – as it circles the vale – updating journey’s end,
The lanterns flicker in a dance of cohesion with the honour of the personal flame,
Leading well-trodden pathways echoing the Sun-wheels – never quite the same!
A swarm of Starlings chatter – in their excited masses – as the dusk it draws the dark,
Timing is everything with a close to perfection – the long gone sunset leaves its mark,
The lanterns extinguished each in turn – the night of deepest darkness engulfs the scene,
Suspended animation – a vision caught in time – before the dawn of the never seen!
Serenaded with the hoot of a Tawny Owl – treated in repeat for several bars,
Tasting the atmosphere and the last of the mead – under the first twinkle of the stars,
The screech of the Foxes like the ghost of midwinter – radiating out through the still,
Leaving a single candle burning upon the Ancestors Altar – as I hope we always will!
With the advent of dawning – warming the morning – the new Sun shines low in the sky,
The Buzzards are busy and a Kestrel hovers – as the moment rolls on by,
Small clump clouds dot a clear blue vision – and Robin comes out to check the view,
In and out of the Dogwood whips to take a gander – a subtle welcome how’d you do!
The waters channel a constant – in their seasonal flow – and under foot we slip and slide,
A surface painted with earthen meander lines – fortune favours while the rains subside,
The flame it still burns in keeping connection – dancing in the breeze as it stirs,
A new year’s perspective on the thought provoking – seizing a moment where it naturally occurs!
The wreath maker productive in his preparation – performing his art in a thrice,
Delicate manoeuvres with the dexterity of his fingers – completed to perfection in a trice,
With relaxation reflected – we bring on second breakfast – followed by an accompanying fire,
A reaction in response to the onset of cloud cover – blowing in on the elemental wind of desire!
A Buzzard approaches – tailed by a meddlesome Crow – nature’s interaction before our eyes,
Three reinforcement Crows put faith in numbers – the Buzzard’s moved on from the eastern rise,
Hugging the crown tops of the Silver Birch – it saunters over the Grove and off to the west,
The cloud cover thinning with its sun burnt holes – casting winter shadows in their Sunday best!
Primroses peering through the surface of the seasonal soil – with their shooting tips of green,
Early in their eagerness a ray of hope – warmed by the under-blanket where dead leaves convene,
Taking a wide berth around the pond of deep lingering water – where winter holds its worth,
The fine detail completed and fully dressed – when the incense crawls and drifts across the earth!
Lanterns reignited – so shine the leading lights – on a sun-wise pathway into a future world,
Poetry in motion – an infinite ocean – as we leave the corners – of the pages of history curled,
Looking to the horizon and the call of the awakening – following the rhythms step by step,
Conceived in the eye of contemplation – giving the footsteps of the living journey a reassuring pep!
The Holly and the Ivy left to rest – at the foot of the Northern Stone – in memory of the past,
With the gift of the Mistletoe – a guiding light – when the ribbon threads of paths are cast,
In retiring celebration – we reflect in the sidings – taking in the gentle rays of the Sun,
Feeling at peace and one with the moment – happy in the knowledge – the new Sunwheel’s begun!
Right on time the Long Tailed Tits – rifling the trees and shrubs like a scatter gun blitz,
Moving from east to west in their daily time-slot – like a chaotic drop off they pull into the pits,
The stragglers leave and we return the Grove to its former glory – before the setting of the Sun,
Picking up our pathways of personal adventures – with a Winter Gathering done!