The Earth Basks

The earth basks in the glory of the sun’s return
After a time of cold repose,
The dark Crone’s time --
A season of sleep, wrapped in white blankets,
Or silent standing with naked limbs,
Feigning death,
The sap of life withdrawn into the very root of self.

Now the golden touch warms and revivifies;
Calls forth that which has slumbered,
Makes new, makes well, makes whole,
Makes beauteous and full of grace,
Perfumes the breeze, and tints with joyous colors
The Maiden’s garb.

The Bride awaits the Bridegroom.