The earth tips her northern face imperceptibly
away from the sun, glorious sun, her
peek-a-boo partner in shadow-play,
unfurling the spokes of May the other way,
wheel turning to fallow fields, the darkness of winter days.
Sheaves of green, gold and red line the storeroom walls,
a new moon lately fallen, acorns gleaned from dry ground.
Apples, grapes and wine, manzanita cider,
quince and honey, mugwort and vervain, harvest home,
harvest home, we merrily sing our harvest home.
Spiral dancing with my twin, hobby horse between us,
Lords and Ladies, bawdy maids, Sun and Moon join too.
A peaceful giant, two ravens, Corn Dolly three,
musicians to spark the reverie,
we wend our way through Sherwood Forests of today.
Living Poetically 