Entering Through the Gate!
With an extended wailing – the screeching of a Buzzard – as we draw nearer to the gate,
Welcome the silence – as we step within – the grey black moods of the cloud dilate!
Biting the breeze – chilling exposed extremities – nuzzling at fabrics and chafing the skin,
Feeling the pinch as the season changes – evacuating leaves as they turn within!
There’s a fire hastened in the portable fire pit – rendered close and tight,
The licking of flames – they play at their games – with their glow of burning bright!
The charcoal holds the heat – as we settle down to eat – second breakfast – what some call brunch,
Warming to a man – fine tuning the plan – taking in the moment to take us through to lunch!
There’s a sporadic rustling – through windswept Silver Birch – repeat offenders on the scene,
Enter the Long-tail Tits – in their random flits – bobbing and weaving their autumn routine!
The Beltane Hawthorn – dressed in blue with slate – squaring its footing to borders edge,
Topped with polished pebbles – awaiting the rains – to wash the dust of ages down the ledge!
The Lantern jars – find their timely scars – stood to attention they await their burning heart,
The entrance candles – light up their rustic towers – sheltered from the wind after a shaky start!
The North West greys – rush the wind a ways – flowing like a river across the sky,
Contours sculpted deeply within the curls and swirls – a moments trance – a fleeting glance with I!
A Buzzard soars – above the eastern rise – drawing sun-wise circles in a burst of Sun,
Washing over the Grove – with a dance of shadows – racing colours paint their shades on the run!
When the wind it roars – nature stays in doors – apart from the odd rebellious Crow,
Robin watches on from the depths of the hedges – while the Wood Pigeons come and go!
With the lighting of the Lanterns – it sharpens the focus – as the incense starts to burn,
Wrapping the arms around a formal gathering – the sun-wise Sun-wheel moves in turn!
Defining a circle with autumns Trees – riddled with threadbare patches and fading leaves,
Scattering a carpet of green – in every decreasing circles – as the energy it heaves!
There’s a poetic interaction – to the honouring of the Ancestors – with the lighting of a flame,
There’s a toasting of Mead – with a smile guaranteed – with Samhain celebration to wide acclaim!
To absent friends – where memory extends – from the tips to the roots of our family Trees,
To the long lost threads – that built our history beds – the faded footprints no-one sees!
As tradition dictates there’s a call to the gateway – where the Samhain fire it calls us here,
We count our blessings with our daily bread – where the salt and honey and the wine is near!
With a pause for engagement – we enter through the gate – sweeping out the old for future’s new,
Clearing the cobwebs and tidying the corners – where the road to contemplation sees you through!
On the edge of dusk – as we greet our closing – the Lanterns hold a glow in the changing light,
Turning the wheel with the early evening – the daylight fades as we slip into night!
The Planning Department tidy Ceremony away – leaving all the Lanterns to burn,
The candles flicker – the Samhain fire takes centre stage – with a beauty to discern!
As we retire for the evening – the chill wipes our faces – numbing to the touch of the toes,
A small crescent moon – as bright as a spotlight – lights our path as it goes!
As the silhouette hedges – open out at the stream – a melody of sorts plays to the crowd,
Dancing away the cold with the moon-light shadows – the air hangs heavy in its Samhain shroud!