Threshold Season

Feeling the calling of the dusk,
Full moon rising in my blood,
Silhouetted against the sky,
Twisted between the thorns of being
and unbeing...
Gateways between gateways,
Thresholds between thresholds....
Breath of my breath.

 I smell you,
Something wild on the wind,
In the drifting shadows of the season.
Aching for the call,
The belling of the stag,
The first crisp nights,
Bare feet melting frost between my toes, ice crystals rimming the grape leaves,
Hinting at intoxication.
Grape skin, sweet and supple between my teeth, spitting out the bitter seeds,
Aching, worn,
From summers too long days,
Falling into the embrace,
of your lingering twilights,

Autumn leaves and rush lights,
And your scent lingering near my doorstep in the morning.
I heard you sniffing around my eaves last night,
fox barking under the blackberries.

And I ache,  Oh I ache ...
To throw off this mantle of civilization,
And follow your steaming breath
 and muddied footprints,
Through the mirrored edges of the frozen puddle,
The jagged arch of the bramble path,
The dolmens of forgotten corners,
Deep into the wild,
Home...again.

2017