Seasons

Be Sure To Keep Your Knickers On!

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~ A Rhyme for Spring ~

*

Winter packed a bag for Spring
Stay warm, she said, it’s chill
And always have your knickers on
I will, said Spring, I will

Watch out for Summer, Winter said
He’ll blind you with his light
And try to get your knickers off
I might, said Spring, I might

Winter sewed a dress for Spring
Beware the wind may blow
Be sure to have your knickers on
I know, said Spring, I know

Watch out for Summer, don’t forget
He’ll take you to his bed
And then he’ll take your knickers off
I know, said Spring, you said

Winter made a cake for Spring
And put a charm inside
To make you keep your knickers on
Oh no, said Spring, and sighed

Watch out for Summer’s little tricks
And don’t be fooled, my child
He’ll want to take your knickers off
I know, said Spring, and smiled

Winter made a crown for Spring
Of light and darkness linked
Be sure to keep your knickers on!
Of course, said Spring, and winked

*

© Gail Foster March 23rd 2019

This rhyme was written for and performed at the Spring Equinox Gorsedd of Caer Abiri, Avebury, England

 

Demeter and the Poet

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A sonnet for the Autumn Equinox

*

‘He’s taken her away!’  The woman cried

He sighed, and put aside his poetry

And sat beneath the tree, and she beside

And listened to her grief. ‘Persephone

Has gone to Hades!’  How the woman wept

‘He took her last year, didn’t he?’ he said

‘Here, have a handkerchief’ he said – she kept

On weeping – ‘Look, it’s not as if she’s dead

She’s only sleeping.’  ‘It’s alright for you’

She said, ‘you’re just a poet.  You can write

About how black the berries are, how blue

The sloes, how hazel brown and apple bright

And beautiful it is.’  ‘You don’t look bad

Yourself’ he said.  That poet – what a lad.

*

© Gail Foster 21st September 2018

The Green Beneath The Snow

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A Villanelle, for the Spring Equinox

*

the hills are growing green beneath the snow

white horses, shake the winter from your manes

the spring has come, the wild wind told me so

…

cold ice be gone, and warm sweet water flow

come, crocuses, and flower on the plains

the hills are growing green beneath the snow

…

grey gulls fly high, and clouds of blossom blow

come, laughing crows, and dance within the rains

the spring has come, the wild wind told me so

…

soon summer, and so many seeds to sow

come, sun, spill down the furrows of the lanes

the hills are growing green beneath the snow

…

bright gorse ablaze, and alder tops aglow

come blood, and flood the burrows of the veins

the spring has come, the wild wind told me so

…

dark night be gone, long days of light to go

come love, with all your mysteries and pains

the hills are growing green beneath the snow

and spring has come, the wild wind told me so

*

© Gail Foster 17th March 2018

 

Burning Angels; Winter Solstice, 2017

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for the Druids of Avebury, and my muse

*

So many kings of old have come to me

At midnight, in the winter, at the still

In crowns of holly, clothed with mystery

Come riding proudly down from yonder hill

With torches flaming, salamander eyes

Ablaze with ancient summers full of lust

And I have had them all within my thighs

And I have turned them all to ice and dust

Except for he who keeps my fires alight

When darkness falls too deep to understand

Who lies with me all winter, till the night

Recedes, and spring returns to seed the land

With him I make, beneath the mistletoe

The burning shapes of angels in the snow

*

© Gail Foster 16th December 2017

Mother Autumn

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for Anna

and for Rosemary, Joan, and Janette

*

I see my Mother, now the swans have flown

As summer falling sweetly from the vine

In fading shades of blossom turned to wine

In seas of corn from seeds of springtime grown

I sense her in the scents of roses blown

In twilight glades as day and night entwine

At sunrise, in the mist of morning’s shine

On drops of blood of berries on the stone

…

I see my Mother, standing on the hill

Beneath Orion as he turns the year

I see her grieve for me all winter till

The new born leaves and flowers reappear

As I will, Mother, as I always will

Return to where I came from, Mother dear

*

© Gail Foster 22nd September 2017

Come Rise

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Written for the Gorsedd of the Bards; Avebury, England, Spring 2017

*

Can you feel her in the blood

The turning tides, the shifting of the skies

Or hear her on the wind, or in the cries

Of gulls that wheel above the drying mud

Come rise…

…

Can you sense her in the urge

Of flames that lick the furze and lambs that leap

Of sap that rushes sudden from the deep

In swirls of sacred water in the surge

Come rise…

…

Can you feel her in the stone

The ancient fire, the spark of energy

The force that flows through river, rock, and tree

The movement of the marrow in the bone

Come rise…

…

Can you taste her on the lips

The heady scents of grass and honey wine

Of sun warmed earth and rain on celandine

Upon the tongue, upon the fingertips

Come rise…

…

Can you feel her in the beat

Of wing on air, of drum, of run of deer

Or see her colours on the hill appear

All blazing bright, alive with pulsing heat

Come rise…

…

What are you, man, but water through her hand

The winter’s ashes and the summer’s dust

A flick of life and then a flare of lust

Then back into the earth on which you stand

Come rise…

…

Be still, and feel her raw and naked power

Come forth as lightening, set the trees alight

Set hares to run and horses to take flight

Through alder grove and furrowed field in flower

Come rise…

*

© Gail Foster 18th March 2017

Here, Again; The Autumn Equinox

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This poem was written for the Avebury Gorsedd; 24th September 2016

for everyone who was there, and for those who were not…

*

I’m here, again…

Come riding in, upon the western wave

My hair all wove with golden leaves, my breast

As pale as moonlight on a hidden grave

And all the sins of summer long confessed

…

I come, again…

In sweeping skirts, with white swan feathers strewn

To brush the summer dust from weary grass

Make ash of aspen, damp the flame of noon

Before the frost freeze water into glass

…

I bring, to you…

Windfallen apples, berries from the hedge

Long shadows on the barrows, and the chalk

Wild winds to stir the willows and the sedge

And mist, and myth, down every path you walk

…

I’m here, again…

The promise of the harvest to fulfil

The energy of autumn, streaming through

The swirling springs that spiral round the hill

To drench the land in red and russet hue

…

I come, again…

Between the longest day and shortest night

To fill the blood and marrow of your bones

With all the orange glory of the light

Before the dark descend upon the stones

…

I bring, to you…

A cornucopia of ripened fruit

Dark juices of the vine in bottles bright

To nourish soul and body, to transmute

Your thought to dream, your dream to second sight

…

For I am She…

Am Autumn writ, in every field and tree

Am mistress of the Owl and running Hare

So yield unto my kiss, and blesséd be

And dance with me, oh Druid, if you dare…

 *

@ Gail Foster 23rd September 2016

 

Let Me In

 

Knock, knock, who’s there, and art thou friend or foe?

Why knockest thou at this ungodly hour?

I am the Light, whose face and word you know

I bring you sheaves of blossom trees in flower

So many moons have passed since we last met

How shall I know that it is really you?

I am the Light no darkness can forget

I bring you skies of bright and endless blue

Why comest thou, now I am nearly old

With fainting faith and blood flow slow and dry?

I am the Light, returning as foretold

I bring you Life, to raise you true and high

How glad am I, to see you at my door

Come, cast your crazy sunbeams on my floor

 

by Gail