Feb. 16th, 2009

ravenedgewalker: (Default)
What offerings would you bring me?
love? my dear one, You
north-wind of winter
Gusting down from the ice
where the snowbears walk
who come sighing gently into my grove
with the song of snow still on your breath
and the barest taste of frost on your lips
even as spring begins to break
about me and my roots begin to stretch.

What offerings do you bring me
That I do not already have?
Now that the spring awakens me
stirs my twigs and sings me
to put forth leaves and tiny flowers,
to fill the air about me with my
yellow cum, that all the world
might see my lover- the spring
has arrived to coax forth
my wise green song once more.

Three times I can ask,
and three times only.
What is your price for my wisdom
North-wind of winter, dear-one,
you with the haw-frost still
in your hair, I ask
three times and never more.
and I think you have little time left to you
before you must slink back to your
lands of ice and snow and night.

What offerings do you carry
down from the north?
Across the frozen wastes
and through the fear of spring
to lay at my feet in the grove
where already my joy is dancing the
grass into green
and the sky into the blue of my dreams
Cold one, ice one come closer
whisper to my ear, tell me.

Ah! yes, that then is your
beautiful gift, your single offering
your gift of winter in the
dawn of spring
I will take it from your
trembling icicle fingers and
lock it away in the dark
for now, for a time, it is,
hidden away in the kernel of each, every seed
that is not yet called forth.


ravenedgewalker: (Default)

December 2010

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