WHEEL OF THE YEAR
When icy winters clutch has stunted each bare bough,
And breathless moonlight frosts the snow-heavy sky;
When the newborn Sun climbs weakly into heaven,
Then all know that Imbolg has finally stopped by.
We hang braided Brigids Crosses upon the wall,
So She will keep the hearth fires burning til spring.
The Corn Bride is made of the last harvests first sheaves,
And lain in a corn bed inside the faery ring.
When the young Suns light shines so strong and so bright,
And flowers blanket the fields after Aprils rain;
When birdsongs once again echo through the leaves,
Then the mighty Queen of May has brought us Beltane.
We weave red and white ribbons about the maypole,
And dancers wear green to honor Belenos might.
Others leap over fires dotting the hillsides,
Chanting, Hail unto Thee from the abodes of the night!
When the fields are golden with Lughs tender touch,
And the cornbread dribbles with the honey of the bee;
When the Wort Moon rises with the August dawning,
Then Lughnasadh has arrived, as all can see.
Danus generous bounty shall feed us all,
When the fields are threshed and bread baked with care.
Then round the blazing bonfires we weave,
Corn yellow flowers tucked in every maidens hair.
When the Blood Moon grows bloated in October skies,
And the veil between the worlds has worn sheer and thin;
When turnips and pumpkins are at their ripest,
Then the day of Samhain has arrived once again.
Jack-o-lanterns mark the circles boundary,
And candles penetrate the dark shroud of night.
We say our joyful goodbyes to the dying Sun,
Knowing Hell return after the long winter twilight.
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