Holding the Equinox – A Poem

2nd Waning Gibbous ♎️

On the day of the Spring Equinox 2022 which occurred on this day at 15:33 hrs GMT (Northern Hemisphere)

The Spring Equinox is not found in the rituals of Man.

It is in the warm of the sun, the chill of the breeze; and in the shadow.

It is in the blinding light and blazing green of each flower singing their colours.

It is in the chatter song of birds and growling of lawn mowers; of neighbours in the garden.

It is in the perfumes of flowers, of grass freshly cut, of spicy Rioja in the sun.

It is in the bittersweet rhubarb, the heavy richness of wine, of freshly tilled earth.

Rituals are in voice, verse and posture; they do not hold the Equinox…. But they help us remember.

We know, more weeding required!

I’m more of a Malbec man, but this IS delicious!

Rhubarb in the afternoon sun….

Which becomes rhubarb crumble!

Setting sun over Nottingham and a magnolia.

***

The Spring Equinox is known in some Modern Pagan circles as Ostara, in Modern Druidry (especially in the Order of Bards, Ovates and Druids) it is known as Alban Eilir or ‘Light of the Earth’. The celebrations of this occasion acknowledge the shift from winter to spring, a time of change and new beginnings, of growth in the natural world and in ourselves.

Perspective- a poem

New Moon ♏️

Autumn’s leaves hanging on by a thread; Each a memory or punitive thought.

Skeletal trees standing naked and stark; Thoughts of the deceased and cold regrets.

Gentle snow embracing all; The silence it brings stills the hurt.

Brightening sky of the birthing dawn; Shadows of doubt are burned away.

Crisp air brings with it sharpened clarity; Remembrances are mellowed.

Day star arises bringing powdered blue; A smile in the heart- what new hope awaits?

Taken on the last week of November, no idea whose house that it is!

***

I don’t know if there’s something about the weather in November that makes us think of the dead, but my thoughts went towards a friend of mine who had passed a few years back. There’s a lot of coulda, shoulda, woulda, but at the end, we must accept what was and what is; being grateful for the memories and times we shared with those we have lost.

Wanderlust: A Poem

New Moon ♍️

The song rises from within, To fulfil the need as one must breathe. The pull to go outside yearns from within, To fulfil the urge as one must wake.

I can’t sit or lay; I must go beyond the shade and walls of comfort. I can’t sit or lay; I must cross familiar paths and go beyond the known world.

Let the sea of green surround me in waves of autumn’s treasure. Let the sea of blue crash upon me in the surf of silver, copper and gold.

Let the endless track take me beyond the known maps of “Here be Dragons.” Let the sun cut through mystery’s fog and reveal endless choice.

“I must go on”. The song rings within my blood- Pushing ever onwards. “I must go on,” though the way is unknown- Pulling ever onwards.

The path leads ever onwards….. until it’s time to go home, of course!

Midsummer 2021

3rd Waxing Gibbous ♏️

Taken 30 mins after sunrise.

Today began with slow awakening, thick grey lightening up with pockets of light.

Traces of pink scattered the east, the promise of sun blocked by banks of green.

Heavy anthracite cracked and melted in a sea of pastel blue and shots of silver.

Warm sunlight is caressed by the cooling wind, there are rain drop kisses if I stand still.

Same gentle breeze keeps the leaves chattering in their choir, and wind chimes sing their song.

Those first shy drops later become tentative splashes, then lovingly embrace all in sight.

The verdant green stands firm, pulsing life and soaking up all that is given.

* * *

May the dawn greet you, may the sun shine upon you, may the longest day bring you joy.

Locksley. /|\

Merry May! Bealtaine 2021

Last Quarter ♒

Bluebells of Woolley Woods, by my Dad David Knight.

Though the sky is grey, there is blue behind the cloud.

Though the rain falls, the bells ring blue in the sea of green.

But hark! The sun bursts through dismal banks!

A rainbow garlands shines the southern woods to the poplars of the west.

Though the rain falls, it quenches the thirsty ground.

Though the sky is grey, the sun shines still!

***

Indeed, after a day of much needed rain, my wife shouted to say the sun had come through and a rainbow could be seen!

Bealtaine blessings and Merry May!

Locksley. /|\

Spring Equinox 2021

7th Waxing Crescent ♊

We can see it with the growing daylight.

We can feel it in the sun and wind.

We can hear it with bird-song

We can smell the flowers begin.

We can feel it in our soul throng.

Spring’s lightening.

Happy Equinox everyone!

Imbolc Special- You Hold on!

New Moon ♒

Nottingham City Hospital and the western sky beyond Valley Road Park.

Hold on! Because the lighter nights are coming.

Hold on! Because the warmer days are coming.

Hold on! Because the first stars are coming.

You Hold On! Despite what dark consumes you.

It’s amazing what inspiration awaits when you look at the sky and all you can hear is a tune that’s trying to be something from The Corrs (a gift of the unlicensed music on the work radio).

We’re in dark and uncertain times and they aren’t done yet…. but we’ll get there.

Whoever you are, wherever you are and whatever you do…. You Hold On!

Last Day of August- A Poem

New Moon in ♍>♎

Vibrant green leaves sink as they droop. The zestful and fresh now looks worn and tired.

The morning sun apparently pale, blinds whilst low in the early view. Droplets of dew still linger.

I shiver in the shadow, yet roast in the light, children watch a bee groggily making it’s way on foot.

Clouds gather, but no rain comes down, the sky as blue as forget-me-nots.

There’s a shift in the season, a chill in the air. Lazy days enriched with anticipation.

The sun sets a blazing copper, damp in the air despite the clear sky. The first leaves are already being burned.

The moon rises a burning orange, then a thick yellow until she ascends into her silver brilliance.

Not quite full, yet pregnant with promise, like the season to come, we wait.

Ok, the photo was taken in September, but the sky was similar.

Here in the UK, we get what are called Bank Holidays which are our version of public holidays. There’s always one at the end of August and I wanted to catch that feeling of the last half of summer.

Locksley. /|\

Golden Sun of August

New Moon ♌-♍

You burned upon high that
People roasted themselves freely
For the basking in your glory.

Oven-rooms sweltered,
Even the air treacled thick
With your presence as your light turned.

A light, as the day goes on begins to lack the lustre of the noon. It’s shafts in cloud-break are now pale.

Now, a chill dances, caressing the burnt.
Nature’s fruits blaze scarlet, as
Your glow dies down a golden ember.

The wheel has turned and as
Summer peaks, so begins it’s
Multi-coloured descent.

Your glory only rivalled
By that of the Silver Huntress,
Your power wanes as her kisses
soothe the burned and tired.

This poem was actually worked from A draft written back in 2007! I’ve edited it and even though the photo’s weren’t taken in August this year, it’s my aim they capture the duality of day and night at this time of changing season. August can be balmy and sticky, or wet and cool, but it’s the month we really begin to see the turn in the land and the shortening of days.

Locksley.

Broken Taboo- Full Moon Special

Thursday 7th May 2020- Full Moon♏

Last Super Moon of 2020

Breathe in two, three, four, out two, three four, Hidden neighbours mock each other, their tongue unknown.

Breathe in two, three, four, out two, three four, My mind races, focus uncontrolled. Naked!

I am naked before the moon of flattened yellow, Solar lights make a constellation of the garden.

A noise! A Spectator! Only I hear them and stand defiant. Tabby Cat leaps and plays with flying shadows.

I see the night, the stars peeping out of the cloud. I stand as a star, like them and we are free.

I feel the night, the cool all around, yet I am warm. I am a star, like them and we are free.

I breathe in the night, the air both in and out. I smell where I sweat and know the beast I am.

I hear the night, the voices of the unseen, The water that flows and the cat that runs!

I taste the night, the wild unseen in the dark, I taste the wild within, to stand in glorious audacity!

Breathe in two, three, four, out two three, four, I am naked and emboldened, my fetters unshackled.

Breathe in two, three, four, out two three, four, The moon begins to hide with a cloak of cloud and a mask of tree.

Breathe out two three, four….

I release the night, longing to go and to stay.