Well, here we are at the turn of the season once more. And although my new home seems hellbent on hanging onto summer the way my old home clings to winter, I still celebrate the arrival of my very favorite season.
The moon sings silver songs,
set with jasper and bright carnelian.
Soft, silken, supple. Gliding to the ear
In the space between heartbeats.
The teeth of the year-wheel
turn and bite the dark earth,
crisp susurrations on the wind, leaves
giving up their final ghost.
And patient Autumn sets in her russet hair
A crown of electrum, kissed with frost.
Takes the sceptre from golden Summer,
who yawns, light leaking from cerulean eyes.
Regine vermiculumque, dirige nos ad nostra quies
Dona nobis sapientiam sicut nos cogitemus.
Et renoua caritatis et fortitudo nostra
In noctim tenebris.