Merry Meet, my buddies!
I ready my message for this marvelous vacation earlier than my husband and I went out of city to have fun our thirtieth Anniversary. Sadly, the Mercury retrograde shadow hit laborious, and my pretty put up is misplaced perpetually.
So as a substitute of making an attempt to rewrite it from vacation-land (these posts take me many hours, consider it or not), I’m going to share my favourite Lughnasadh-themed poem. If you would like extra in regards to the magic and lore of this necessary cross-quarter sabbat, you would possibly re-read here.
Or go to my good friend, Cate Kerr, who all the time shares unbelievable knowledge and sweetness on her art-filled website. This was particularly inspiring.
Thanks on your endurance.
I’m nonetheless having a number of intermittent glitches with my website, so I hope you’ll truly see this.
Blessings to all.
Little Summer time Poem
Touching the Topic of Religion
Mary Oliver
Each summer season
I hear and look
below the solar’s brass and even
into the moonlight, however I can’t hear
something, I can’t see something —
not the pale roots digging down, nor the inexperienced stalks muscling up,
nor the leaves
deepening their damp pleats,
nor the tassels making,
nor the shucks, nor the cobs.
And nonetheless,
every single day,
the leafy fields
develop taller and thicker —
inexperienced robes lofting up within the evening,
showered with silk.
And so, each summer season,
I fail as a witness, seeing nothing —
I’m deaf too
to the tick of the leaves,
the tapping of downwardness from the banyan toes —
all of it
occurring
past any seeable proof, or hearable hum.
And, subsequently, let the immeasurable come.
Let the unknowable contact the buckle of my backbone.
Let the wind flip within the bushes,
and the thriller hidden within the dust
swing by the air.
How might I take a look at something on this world
and tremble, and grip my fingers over my coronary heart?
What ought to I worry?
One morning
within the leafy inexperienced ocean
the honeycomb of the corn’s stunning physique
is certain to be there.
