Round we'll go again

Round we'll go again

We sing to the stars,
the cirrus clouds that collect over Moon,
rock, there by the fire,
in the looming of light, call
in father Sun, his lift back to hours,
our fingers weaving
warmth that'll curl
into being, seeing
the lessening of night.

We chant incantations into breath,
to stain the dusk as wives,
witches bound to Almanac
we thrum, drum Capricorn highs,
where stones sit, rest,
shape of full De Lune,
shadow daughters
darkening further
to rise upon his dawn.

Baba will show her face,
Persephone, Lilith, exhaling,
stretching, reaching to pinken,
to amber the onyx of unforgiving dusk.
And this Solstice hums,
vibrates into knowing,
shakes as we
unwind, relax, blink divine,
relent to see the Spring
as she peaks once again,
spreads fertile seeds --
bless the vines of our seasons.