Last Days of the Summer King
The sun of his youth has faded
As he sits in silent contemplation
Skin wove with scars and tales
With the soft polish of weathered wood
Frost tumbles through his beard
Grown long beneath considered gaze
Eyes aglow as memories march
In quiet pageant of contemplation
Antlers worn white, rest upon his head
Rich entwined with cold kissed vines
A fading splendor that adorns his brow
Caressed with words of countless lives
The sounds of glee and laughter fade
As the skirl of music lies about him
And life around him dancing
In a furious array
His hands recall the memory of
The bright spring Maiden fair
His nose the scents that linger
Of the fiery Mother’s hair
And through the seasons turnings
As the year flew fast away
He smiles of his love the Crone
As they whiled away their days
From the rebirth in the Winter’s night
The laughter of Spring’s warming light
Through the fiery dance of Summer’s height
Unto the harvest of Autumn’s flight
He smiled as he recalled the days.
Snow settles soft about him
Tossed on the Winter’s wind
Grayness courts and calls him
As he turns his thoughts within
In shadowed time the way grows bright
He sees Her there within
Into her arms he gladly steps
While this tale begins again
The revelers turn towards him
With wry merriments chagrin
The words of blessing falter
As they wonder where he went . . .
Banfiadh2017
