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.

Friday, July 11, 2014

Poetry for the Esbat: Buck Moon 2014 (A Love Letter.)

A fortuitous gift: "Buck Moon" elk plate.
A fortuitous gift from my sister: "Buck Moon" elk plate.

Yesterday my dear sister gifted me with a stack of plates, each one painted in silver & antique gold with a different ungulate; elk, blackbuck, moose & bighorn sheep. Did she know that this Moon around the corner is best known as the "Buck Moon," or was this gesture just another vibration in the Web?

Since I find myself again in the High Desert for this Esbat, I wanted to share a piece from my growing collection of lichens-in-the-Moonlight poetry. But the dish...

And besides, I miss my husband -- this round, more than ever before. It seems odd that it becomes more difficult as I get older, rather than the inverse.

Ah, Love, so mutable.

With that, I take this excuse(?) to assemble a Love Letter out of a poem about Love & Stags which has little or nothing to do with the Moon at all, except that it does because everything does in the fullness of time. I had selected Tarot cards filled with ungulate imagery, however, I am opting out in favour of the pure potency that comes with simplicity. Just the poetry, please. Those who appreciate Love, the Horned Ones or just the natural thrill of the wilderness, this poem is also for you.

The Stags, by Kathleen Jamie

This is the multitude, the beasts
you wanted to show me, drawing me
upstream, all morning up through wind-
scoured heather to the hillcrest.
Below us, in the next glen, is the grave
calm brotherhood, descended
out of winter, out of hunger, kneeling
like the signatories of a covenant;
their weighty, antique-polished antlers
rising above the vegetation
like masts in a harbor, or city spires.
We lie close together, and though the wind
whips away our man-and-woman smell, every
stag-face seems to look toward us, toward,
but not to us: we’re held, and hold them,
in civil regard. I suspect you’d
hoped to impress me, to lift to my sight
our shared country, lead me deeper
into what you know, but loath
to cause fear you’re already moving
quietly away, sure I’ll go with you,
as I would now, almost anywhere.

To listen to this poem read by the author, please visit: The Poetry Foundation's website

I Love you. I would go with you, almost anywhere.

I Love you too my little sister. And I Love the rest of you, you know who you are.

Blessings to you this Esbat, my friends.


Unknown said...

and reassuring ~
Auntie Annie

Moma Fauna said...

Love! to you & yours. :)

Kimber said...

I am missing you. Just wanted to say. :)

Moma Fauna said...

Ah! I was just thinking quite fondly of you today! Coincidence? I think not. ;)

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