That Olde Tyme Religion

Give me that olde tyme religion,
Celebrating amongst ancient stones
Standing tall and proud this woodland day
Stones gifted from kin long afore….

Summer’s nearly gone now,
Don’t know where he went
For days are getting shorter – and cooler
With the first harvest now at hand.

A time for harvest celebrations,
Of honoring the varied grains;
As cicadas scream high in the trees we share
Feasts of breads, clotted cream and honey sweet.

Feasts fit for the Summer King with ales flowing freely
Stuffs of the grains by the toils of our hands,
Honoring the Land and those who worked it,
Those who ground the grains and made the meals.

But most of all I honor the Land!
For without the Earth and the Powers within
All would be naught – so we offer
A tithe of her bounty unto her womb….

……

A season of change is in the air this eve
As Lughnasadh’s just this night ahead;
Warmth of Summer’s spurred crops’ growth!
Earth’s bounty of grains in our breads and meads
Is nourishing our bodies as we celebrate!

Light and dark melds to shades of even-tide
With stars beginning to shine on heavens high;
Bonfires alight send their sparks into the sky
As fresh breads laden with honey and clotted cream
Are warming bellies – with woodland meads!

Songs of olde are sung ‘round flames leaping high
With prayers of thanks spoken to ancestors most ancient
While food, drink and grain are offered to Earthly spirits;
Looking toward harvests yet coming – this season and the next
The spirits appeased by our gifts, as are we!

The night air feels soft, caressing our skin gracefully
With slender crescent moon moving swiftly towards new;
Stars twinkling amongst fireflies’ dwindling brightness with
Summertime drifting towards Autumn as the seasons turn,
A season of change is in the air with Lughnasadh celebrated….

© Hemlock Evergreen
July 31, 2010, on Lughnasadh Eve