Pray to the Moon when She is round,
Luck with you will then abound,
What you seek for shall be found
On the sea or solid ground.

Monday, January 9, 2012

Poetry for the Esbat: Wolf Moon 2012

As I begin this Moon's poetry post, I am realizing that She was at her fullest during the wee hours of this morning. Ah, well, perhaps She will forgive my tardiness this time.

The January full Moon is listed in my calendar as the Cold Moon. However, this is inconsistent with other sources & besides, everything published by Llewellyn gives me pause. So for this month, I opted for the Farmers Almanac name -- Wolf Moon -- instead. The Almanac claims that during this coldest, most bleak part of the year, beneath this brightest of Moons, the wolves were known to howl outside Native American villages  -- hence the name, Wolf Moon. I cannot find a tribe to attribute this title specifically, but the closest source might be the Sioux, if the American Indian Moons page at Western Washington University's Planetarium website is to be believed. The Almanac also mentions other, less common names for this Moon, like Full Snow Moon, Moon After Yule & my personal favourite, Old Moon.

Moon XVII, from Aeclectic Tarot.
I wanted to start this January including an image of a Moon (or Moon-related) tarot card from one of my decks with these posts. It seems only appropriate to begin with the Moon card from my very first tarot deck, the Voyager Tarot (by James Wanless), gifted to me on my sixteenth birthday. That was many, many Moons ago. Unfortunately, I left the deck in Alaska, so I had to borrow a clear image from the Aeclectic Tarot website, but I included a photo of my own card in situ, circa September (above), for good measure. 

The poem I selected for this month's Esbat is by Æ (also AE or, A. E.), the Irish nationalist, mystical & political writer & theosophist otherwise known as George William Russell. I love his poetry & I keep a copy of his Selected Poems (1935) at my bedside.

Dark glowed the vales of amethyst
Beneath an opal shroud:
The moon bud opened through the mist
Its white-fire leaves of cloud.
Through rapt at gaze with eyes of light
Looked forth the seraph seers,
The vast and wandering dream of night
Rolled on above our tears.

Blessings to you this Esbat my friends.

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