a chosen piece for Mabon

I feel I want to lay my head

in a cornfield on the ground

to just lay still

and I think I will

I will not make a sound

close my eyes and peer into the heavens

the, wiccan awakening is mine

imagining the sentinels those trees

those living sculptures

leafless autumn it feels so divine

< for every kind of and the season which is true creating a great palette producing colours where earlier the greens appeared but now theres lots to share I the deep browns and the purples the orange and indigo deep bold strokes of magic for all those in the know a waterfall, a meandering of stream to somewhere where the water can  find minerals and just take them to share a moose a little thread bare stumbles on the scene drinks a draught of water and some leaves for he  has been wandering the  forests dark hopeful of some sweet grasses where he cleans his teeth and tests out his poor feet a crescent moon peers downwards an owl sits in his tree tightly packed in a little snug looking agreeably happy at the changing times down on the meandering stream the lass still sleeps the wind still reaps shes half way through her dream she suddenly awakens and sees the corn  and sees a circle made by spirits even dryads, on her knees she marvels at the closeness to her stands and walks away Mabon got her going thats all that she could say the magic of that moment her eyes could not believe her heart was moved to flutter her mind was to achieve