Honor: 0 [ Give / Take ]
3 entries this month
Twas The Night Before Yuletide
02:23 Dec 20 2006
Times Read: 577
C.C. Williford '
Twas the night before
Yuletide and all through the glen
Not a creature was stirring, not a fox, not a hen.
A mantle of snow shone brightly that night
As it lay on the ground, reflecting moonlight.
The faeries were nestled all snug in their trees,
Unmindful of flurries and a chilly north breeze.
The elves and the gnomes were down in their burrows,
Sleeping like babes in their soft earthen furrows.
When low! the earth moved with a thunderous quake,
Causing chairs to fall over and dishes to break.
The Little Folk scrambled to get on their feet
Then raced to the river where they usually meet.
"What happened?" they wondered, they questioned, they probed,
As they shivered in night clothes, some bare-armed, some robed.
"What caused the earth's shudder? What caused her to shiver?"
They all spoke at once as they stood by the river.
Then what to their wondering eyes should appear
But a shining gold light in the shape of a sphere.
It blinked and it twinkled, it winked like an eye,
Then it flew straight up and was lost in the sky.
Before they could murmur, before they could bustle,
There emerged from the crowd, with a swish and a rustle,
A stately old crone with her hand on a cane,
Resplendent in green with a flowing white mane.
As she passed by them the old crone's perfume,
Smelling of meadows and flowers abloom,
Made each of the fey folk think of the spring
When the earth wakes from slumber and the birds start to sing.
"My name is Gaia," the old crone proclaimed
in a voice that at once was both wild and tamed,
"I've come to remind you, for you seem to forget,
that Yule is the time of re-birth, and yet . . ."
"I see no hearth fires, hear no music, no bells,
The air isn't filled with fragrant smells
Of baking and roasting, and simmering stews,
Of cider that's mulled or other hot brews."
"There aren't any children at play in the snow,
Or houses lit up by candles' glow.
Have you forgotten, my children, the fun
Of celebrating the rebirth of the sun?"
She looked at the fey folk, her eyes going round,
As they shuffled their feet and stared at the ground.
Then she smiled the smile that brings light to the day,
"Come, my children," she said, "Let's play."
They gathered the mistletoe, gathered the holly,
Threw off the drab and drew on the jolly.
They lit a big bonfire, and they danced and they sang.
They brought out the bells and clapped when they rang.
They strung lights on the trees, and bows, oh so merry,
In colors of cranberry, bayberry, cherry.
They built giant snowmen and adorned them with hats,
Then surrounded them with snow birds, and snow cats and bats.
Then just before dawn, at the end of their fest,
Before they went homeward to seek out their rest,
The fey folk they gathered 'round their favorite oak tree
And welcomed the sun 'neath the tree's finery.
They were just reaching home when suddenly it came,
The gold light returned like an arrow-shot flame.
It lit on the tree top where they cou
The Winter Women
02:13 Dec 20 2006
Times Read: 578
They come, the winter women, at harvest time
Turning the great Yule wheel, cross-quartered,
Down Persephone's dark road
While the earth weeps a mother's tears.
The Baba comes to the barn,
Corn Mother, Corn Maiden, Old Wife, Oatwife
Tossed high on the harvest, dancing, queening it she comes
The year's last sheaf come home.
Creeping she comes, the Old Wife of the Celts,
Cailleach Bheur, hag goddess, crag goddess,
Leaping from the rocks to lock the Bride of spring away.
She whistles up her winter winds, that pack of dogs
That follow dark Frau Gaude on her icy rounds.
Keening she comes! You careless ones,
Who leave your doorways cracked ajar
Will hear her dogs' keen whining at your hearth.
You lazy spinsters, mind your distaff's full
And wind your spindles tidy by the fire
Lest Berchta send you plague or blind your eyes for spying.
Sweep your altar stone
And pile the green boughs high to call her forth
To tell your future in the flames where past and
present mingle at your hearth.
Bright candle flames now wreath her, crowned in lingonberry,
Saint Lucia bringing light out of the heart of Northern darkness.
She brings you gifts of plenty, La Befana sweeping on
her broom
Beware, and honor her! Lest your Epiphany be black as
coal.
Black it was, in the beginning,
When the sun was on the far side of the world
And Spider Woman made the long journey with her pot of clay
To bring the sun back to the Cherokee.
Mary brought the Son, they say, the Prince of Peace --
For unto us a child is born! and the year begins anew.
Children carol for her, Kolyada, whiterobed in her snowy sleigh
In her deep Russian woods of frozen winter streams
where the winter nymphs, Rusalky, sing their secret solstice songs.
There in those winter woods was born the Snegurochka,Snow Maiden,
Ancient spirit, daughter of spring and winter come to earth.
At Candlemas, cross-quarter time, the Old Hag springs again,
But this time Brigit's cross wheels high above the door
And the frail Snow Maiden melts into her summer lover's arms.
See where they come, the winter women, in the bleak midwinter night
To summon up the sun and bring us light.
The Winter Women
02:13 Dec 20 2006
Times Read: 579
They come, the winter women, at harvest time
Turning the great Yule wheel, cross-quartered,
Down Persephone's dark road
While the earth weeps a mother's tears.
The Baba comes to the barn,
Corn Mother, Corn Maiden, Old Wife, Oatwife
Tossed high on the harvest, dancing, queening it she comes
The year's last sheaf come home.
Creeping she comes, the Old Wife of the Celts,
Cailleach Bheur, hag goddess, crag goddess,
Leaping from the rocks to lock the Bride of spring away.
She whistles up her winter winds, that pack of dogs
That follow dark Frau Gaude on her icy rounds.
Keening she comes! You careless ones,
Who leave your doorways cracked ajar
Will hear her dogs' keen whining at your hearth.
You lazy spinsters, mind your distaff's full
And wind your spindles tidy by the fire
Lest Berchta send you plague or blind your eyes for spying.
Sweep your altar stone
And pile the green boughs high to call her forth
To tell your future in the flames where past and
present mingle at your hearth.
Bright candle flames now wreath her, crowned in lingonberry,
Saint Lucia bringing light out of the heart of Northern darkness.
She brings you gifts of plenty, La Befana sweeping on
her broom
Beware, and honor her! Lest your Epiphany be black as
coal.
Black it was, in the beginning,
When the sun was on the far side of the world
And Spider Woman made the long journey with her pot of clay
To bring the sun back to the Cherokee.
Mary brought the Son, they say, the Prince of Peace --
For unto us a child is born! and the year begins anew.
Children carol for her, Kolyada, whiterobed in her snowy sleigh
In her deep Russian woods of frozen winter streams
where the winter nymphs, Rusalky, sing their secret solstice songs.
There in those winter woods was born the Snegurochka,Snow Maiden,
Ancient spirit, daughter of spring and winter come to earth.
At Candlemas, cross-quarter time, the Old Hag springs again,
But this time Brigit's cross wheels high above the door
And the frail Snow Maiden melts into her summer lover's arms.
See where they come, the winter women, in the bleak midwinter night
To summon up the sun and bring us light.
COMMENTS
-