POETRY FOR SAMHAIN

The poet at Samhain

Samhain is the old Celtic name for All Hallows’ Eve, October 31^st

Dragon of my self-admiration,

the time for roaring is over.

Come with me to winter’s cave.

If you wish, I will whisper, down

the tunnel of your hoary ear,

praise for your lavender

and bottle-green scales, 

the gyrations of your

your whipping tongue --

but you must be still.

Tame your breath, warm the small

wood creatures below the hawthorn;

observe robins courting the holly tree,

eager for red fruit to soften, mature.

Marvel while snowflakes float

and whirl, tumble from invisible 

nets in a cobalt sky.

Listen while children sing

in bright, piping voices.

Watch as the light from

their candles threads, winking,

through the groves at midnight.

All of this will happen without you:

The trees, brown sticks in the snow,

will worship the icy silence.

The branch’s trickling song will persevere

beneath silvery panes.

Emerald mosses, soft and wet,

will cling to granite and quartz, 

spread fingers through

furrows in the damp

bark of the leaning oak

who guards the spring.

Poetry by Cathy Larson Sky from her chapbook Blue egg, my heart (Finishing Line Press, 2014) 
Paintings by the famous Sulamith Wulfing
Photos by Cathy Larson Sky, from the family land in Spruce Pine, NC.