Owl hoots three times in the far woods,
fair warning for all small creatures
scurrying to their burrows.
Are we not still and always
those crouching figures
who flee the heavenly alchemy?
Three times in the crackling air,
Owl hoots for us.
*
Wind plays the drums of snow...
staccato taps,
crescendo off the roofs,
flourish of shuddering branches.
Ice snaps its castanets,
its daggers.
Atonal music of the darkest days
needs the most fearless,
subtle listeners.
*
Those strumming flamenco
fingers of sunlight
are a long time away from now.
Now we go comforted
in dreams and ceremonies,
flaming our star-speck candles,
raising our voices against that other music,
drowning out the forever
at night’s heart.
*
Look up! The wheel is turning.
The spectacular crowd of stars,
the tangle of dimensions
jostle for our attention.
Salute the birth of everything holy.
Dolores Stewart (Riccio)
At Yule, we celebrate the
triumphant return of old Helios, the ascendance of light in the fertile
darkness of winter. This morning's offering was written by the late Dolores Stewart (Riccio) and published in her exquisite Doors to the Universe.
It is posted here with her kind permission. She was my friend, and I
miss her. Yule was one of her favorite celebrations in the whole turning
year.
2 comments:
Thank you so much for sharing this wonderfully imaged poem of Ms. Stewart. I have enjoyed all of her work that you've shared, and I 'm glad to hear you were friends. When you start writing of your experiences in your woods, you have much the same knack of imagery. It's like looking at a painting closely. Happy almost solstice! Be well, joyous, and adventurous.
"are we not still and always those crouching figures who flee the heavenly alchemy?" Beautiful! I am both drawn to it and yet somehow avoid that melancholy call of the owl into the "deep forever..." May this Solstice bring us all to a new birth in our lives to endure the darkness that we are experiencing...
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