Seasons of the Witch By Jonathan Boyle Spring Season of birth for Mother Earth,
pastel painted land.
Life springs from death eternal,
nurtured by her hand. Seldom seen, maiden green,
blossoms fall about her feet.
In the rain she is dancing,
the secret paths where lovers meet. Walk the maze in a daze,
Spring intoxicates me.
Make a choice, take the turn,
perfumed arms they hold me. Summer Summer haze, languid days,
fertile and rich the ground.
Soothing scent of moistened Earth,
buzzing insects abound. Season of gold, beyond the cold,
warmth and life in full.
Catch a glimpse of her that runs,
and swims in luminous pool. Summer heart, never part,
here my dreams I'll keep.
A smile touch soft my eyes,
as summer's breath lulls me to sleep. Autumn Skeletal trees lose their leaves,
the reds and golds of Autumn.
Fairy winds sweep them up,
and put their voice upon them. They speak a spell that rise and swell,
and carries me up the road.
Fairy lead and lost for now,
I make this time my abode. Autumn mistress, fair enchantress,
who gives me words to rhyme,
grant me this that I ask,
that I die in harvest time. Winter Biting winds blow the drifting snow,
Winter's face of crystal white.
Warm my bones by the hearth,
waiting out the longest night. Ice for crown, snow for gown,
Winter queen in melancholy splendor,
her heart does long, sorrow deep,
for her people cast asunder. Blanketed Earth awaits rebirth,
restful now she sleep.
Awaiting the time to be reborn,
an ancient promise always she will keep. Epilogue So passes time through Seasons sublime,
and so we find we've grown.
We are all our Mother's children,
what we've reaped we shall sow. —Jonathan Boyle | 
