Solstice

Songs like starspins fill the velvet air
cloaking me at midnight deep in prayer.
I hear Her.

The rarity of love unbound has spilled
It's heat into a place as yet untilled.
I feel Her.

The blood of birthing splatters on the ground;
Her waist is, by the Warriors Sword, girt round.
I see Her.

The scent of Stag in rut, of woman juice
Commingles in a momentary truce.
I smell Her.

Upon my lips a tear drops from Her eye
And burns and soothes and calls my spirit nigh.
I taste Her.

I stand with upraised arms- no bowed head here
And, vows renewed, I welcome the New Year.

The Yule log burns; the Circle casts it Light
Upon this Sacred day, and Solstice night.

Blessed Be.