Days grow shorter Mornings and evenings delightfully chilled Long afternoons warm, hazy, and tea-colored Cool breezes dance from the sea into the valley Making layered wardrobes a must this time of year
The world starts to quiet down Though restlessly at first Unwilling to relinquish summer's vitality Harvest season half complete The trees begin debuting their fall finery Resplendent in reds, golds, and browns As purple hues return to sunset skies
The golden hour earns its name now As the last dandelion seeds drift through dried grasses awash in glowing rays Shadows deepen as homes reflect amber radiance in westward facing window panes Preparing to welcome night's elongating visits earlier each day
The resting season is arriving It carries with it ghostly tales told under cloud-filtered moonlight Candlelight and story craft Blankets, books, and honeyed tea Soups, stews, and baked goods of all kinds Air laden with aromatic spices and yeast
The world grows gradually quieter Chirping crickets slow their masterpieces from allegro to adagio Singing the world into a calmer pace before putting away their instruments Fall readies to welcome dreamers and philosophers Writers and witches All the laborers of the mind and spirit Into its gentle comforting arms
I don't feel well today Reverberating echos of broken dreams Aching pervasive guilt Persistent pointless hope That will not stay snuffed out Nothing is wrong And I hurt just the same
I don't feel well today The sun still rose in a misty pink sky The flowers are blooming and busy with bees Birds sing songs of spring awakening Amongst the newly sprouted leaves Nothing is wrong And I hurt just the same
I don't feel well today Warm afternoon sunlight dries tears That slip from beneath my sunglasses The world assaults my senses Too loud, bright, fast Nothing is wrong And I hurt just the same
I don't feel well today I am told that time heals That I'm doing the right things That I didn't cause it I can't control or cure it Nothing is wrong And I hurt just the same
Warm lazy afternoons in late summer Hazy and tea-colored at the golden hour Dragonflies dancing through the tall grass While crickets hum contentedly Air scented with summer earth And hints of coming autumn rain The world readying for sleep Eagerly awaiting the slowing of things
The first spring rain falls from a darkened sky Washing away the heaviness from the air Bringing deliverance of spirit Offering itself as balm for my weary heart Through its steady patter beyond my open window Petrichor rising to ground me Cool and damp air greeting too hot skin I close my eyes Imagining my complete surrender to it Making an offering of all that scars me All that weighs so heavily on my shoulders I welcome this renewal This forgiveness This peace I invite this healing Surrender to this gentleness Allow this act of cleansing Readying my world to reawaken Readying me to bloom again
This is my season The season Persephone returns to the underworld To take up her night-sky crown A season where darkness rules And pomegranate seeds glisten Like ruby drops of blood Across a dark and mossy earth A season where candlelight entwines with shadow And long nights lay steeped in vivid dreaming
In this season I embrace my own darkness Unafraid of the cold and the quiet For this is where magic lives Where the mythical and mystical thrive Weaving spells amongst the silence I remember my power just like Persephone For this is a season where the resolute thrive
I submerge into my own deep waters My dark reflection staring back at me As I descend into my true self Into the rejuvenation that exists At the heart of midnight I greet each version of myself Forgiving myself for every unkindness Every neglectful moment In this stillness where I am Safe and whole inside my power For this is the season I return to self Where I remember who I am A daughter of darkness and fire
Gold, yellow, red A carpet of leaves It crunched beneath their feet As they played in the light of the golden afternoon Cheeks rosey and hair wild Autumn had come
"It's Spring!" the little songbird sang,
excitement trilling in her voice.
"It is winter," groaned the sleepy sapling
whose roots were enshrouded in icy soil.
"But the sun is SO warm," whistled the songbird.
"Yes, but the ground is still SO cold," creaked the sapling
"Puff up, my small friend, and sleep with me a little longer.
When my buds start to sprout, we will both sing a song of
welcome for Spring."
So the songbird tucked up into a nook in the saplings branches
and together they hunkered down to wait for Spring to truly arrive.
-gws
May your hearth glow bright and warm as the sun deities slumber.
May your threshold be welcoming and your table full.
May you dream deeply of abundance, joy, love, and laughter.
May the stillness of nature restore your ability to hear your heart song.
Rest well and know that, soon, the sun returns!
Blessed Solstice!
- gws
Words Wishes and Wisdom 