Whisper to me leaves,

Rustling tears dropping with the last of summer's breath,

your cycle continues on as we enter into each new dawn,

speak to me oh wind,

blowing through those browned little leaves,

making music in their crescendo,

the autumn season is coming,

the dark months of passing thoughts,

wrapping me in a chill of fallen tears,

taking in the mask of triads acorn three,

dance and follow the doe so merry,

the young fawn grown by mother’s side so wary,

in a circle round the leave,

blows the wind to greet the trees,

dancing on a fickle whim,

their time spent with me fills my memories,

coloring the time of harvest,

with the dusky reminders,

the last weavings of their brown little souls,

in the winter when harsh comes the snows,

but for now I enjoy their splendid little celebration,

singing the song of windy air and chill weather frost comes near,

on the breath of the wind whispering to me,

the song of changing colors and swirling leaves,

so my dance is to rest in their soft fallen bed,

dreaming on the clouds now passing by,

blue is the caress of those white horizons,

damp is the air filled with the scents I love this time of year,

bliss is in the fickle fancy of windswept trees,

and the picture framed in my memory. 

Once you grew here beneath the leaves,

the grasses whisper sweet secrets to me,

a story of a land where the shade trees grew,

a place where the animals were few and new,

their presence though essential to all who knew,

the hillsides rock spoke through you,

and then you climbed to the heavens on an eagles back,

the wind rushing past my ears and saying don't hold back,

the cloud tops white and soft like down,

misting my eyes and bathing my crown,

like rain we fly in and out,

thunder rolls far off the mountain tops,

but the sun of the great father pointing me up,

carried further and further till my heart stopped,

and I looked down to see the bears,

to see the deer and the turtle plodding,

off to the great rivers and towards the great paths,

the guardians of my ancestor's past,

the land of the sweet shade tree,

where a prairie star blossoms and blue grass seeds,

rattle and thrum in wind rushes reeds,

scattering to the heavens a new land flowered by seed,

and they bloom onto a soil once so pure,

their oak savannas sheltering my place to restore,

by the lake and by the stream,

by the waters that ran so clean,

the cool air and hot summer sun resting on my eyelids,

from above I feel love,

and in this home I have come to feel,

the north star gently pulling time on a great wheel,

where my clan to honor and to give a piece of the earth water and sky for it,

a great direction from the beak and the wings of my ride,

on this back of the great birds I do fly,

and wonder what sleep could bring me in that great blue sky,

so I settle in and listen to the grass, 

I place my hand to the rough mother tree,

and knowledge flows inside of me,

of a great ancestral past where the land served us all
and we served it back,

here in the oak savanna.

Subject:  Green Watcher

Watching me strong man of the woods

I talk our silent language giving away troubles freely

Offering prayers for the woods release

And watching the eyes and the face change

Candles glowing to cast shadows of illusion on my eyes

Hoping he hears me and can somehow bring change

The presence of life to the mind in its own spiral

To let my sleep be clear from the daily muss

My tears remaining in my soul for the well of worries

When he moves and the hands shift on his staff

There comes sweetness and strength

Stature of place among the walls imagery

My guiding force guarding me with the hunts treasure

Locked inside my heart comes messages

From the man of the woods watching me

The green bushes blowing in the breeze

And the lush surroundings growing to envelope him

Except the eyes and the hair lightly brushing

The picture remains quite in the hour of my silent
stories

So I smile and drift with him over me.

Autumn

By Autumn

Looking ahead 12/27/2001:

Ash dropped to the floor in a fluttering leaf bend of world comprehension expanded for the good of all its roots reach deep into the waters of unconscious directions,

Hawthorn tendrils of old memories cleansed and a time of restraint cautions the slow passage of the journeyman,

Large old oak gives us the past of passages through thorns into prosperity though we have faced storms our will was strong to stand up tall towards a time of sunlight into which it passes,

Rowans five pointed star of inner bark sparks the mimicking of creation to the voices singing inside the world vision of harmony it is the intuitive protection of the Earth which shields their growth for the complete recycling of days,

Ash dreams granting us the knowledge of the trees bows standing staffs of wisdom’s sake,

Ivy winding around the sacred etheric link of souls binding us with strength in spiritual dance all come to gather for the part assenting in the journey of others to follow up the spiraling path,

Grove speak open and close and listen now to the story
found be firm and truthful to the sacred comfort and
strength of each other for now is a time to open up the narrow perspectives to solace one another in the bending winds that blow,

Beech tree speaks and says take what guidance comes your way the winds do say and knowledge is being offered from the past to overcome the difficulties of one,

Ash acknowledges beech and says we must bend to the winds that blow hard on the grove,

Ivy dreams terrible things but it is to let the young
saplings have light that the old ones break sunlight is sure to return for seasons are a course of nature and the rebuttle of the warriors stand must make sure
intensions are only towards the growth and spiral dance of the whole,

Shield bearer White Poplar links us to a unity of voices singing on the high plane for we must overcome our fears and doubts to be the strong tree assisting to the rebirth of the sun,

Rowan seeds sown now offer the hope of foundation in
intuitive protection through the great fathers that have been felled,

Willow so wise in healing and vision sees to the future of a female balanced spirituality of fertility of the waters in which we dip our souls,

Hawthorn warns us to guard against rushing the defense
into an active phase for which is not the words of
spoken truth,

Nourishing Hazel of the salmon’s knowledge dreams we must speak and act so that our knowledge grows not to rely on the past ways we have owned and to release the dam through our inner bark waiting for intuition to signal us ahead from the storms potential destruction,

Awen speaks through the sweetest of them all, Honeysuckle pink and small is the link the spirits voice that summons strength link be bound to the mother for safety and judgment leading those who have learned to bend and those who have regenerated through the distraction sheltering the birds nests until the wee ones can fly,

Tis the truth of trees conversation from the debate to the gentle winds and back calls their roots that circle round to the tree tops crown the spirit grows in the full aspects of the round and so shall all creation find comfort in the secret knocks being passed through the Ogham.

By Autumn

Invisible ethos of a silent grove
Hands reaching deep into the dark earth
Hands reaching high into the bright sky
In the middle is the grounding tree
Stable wood of bearing
Branches to the air
Roots to the land
Call forth the trees to stand
Deep wisdom and connectivity
Sense time built by seasons
The past lightening upon bark
Wide rings of water circling upward
Rains and streams spiraling up
The roots of thirsty mouths yawn
The present the day
Process of photosynthesis
Energy of the sun
Clouds that pass by with rains
Filtering the light
The past the gain
Stories of wind playing in waving branches
The slow pulse of the earth rising upward
Through the day conversations of green harmony
Fellow companions in a world of wild and shade
Silent to most
Except the dreamer who sleeps
In our slow rhythmic pulse
The future the fruit
The tree promises to bear
With the flowers of summer air
The past is last year's harvest
The rings of growth girdling trunk
Gathering the suns rays
The trinity of the earth, sun & moon
Listening tugs on our memory
Watching a dance of earth, sky & sea
Connected to the elements
Breathing in the wind
Call forth your wisest warriors
Knock on our silent wood
Awaken the slumbering memory
And of service our purpose will be
To defend the right & just
For the sake of peace
To the roots reaching deep
To the limbs stretching tall
We will stand with strength
Of numbers we shall unite
Honor of the battle
Shield for the call of fight
Circling the sacred grove
With the trees might.


Aurora

By Autumn

When the sun comes, to warm the land from the frozen thaw, the minds
of change blow in the wind, leaving time to recollect our nature from
the spring seeds of creation, placing our heart upon the limbs of
flowering trees. When the time comes, where we are meant to shift in
the breeze, when storms blow in quickly and leave, we listen to the
birds warning calls, and then we remember where we are meant to
travel and let our wings taste the breeze. When our minds drift on
dreams, and the sweet memory of love comes to fill your warm blood,
we make room so that all can turn anew in our lives, fertile and
welcoming the sun to the land. I understand when the circle turns,
when things must change, and the winds ruffle my feathers harsh in
the lightning filled rain, I let the rain by and sing to the land the
new green of the earth's gentle hands. I watch in sadness as ways
are parting for those of us who became close, where once my hand was
full of seeds for the future to choose, they have been planted and it
is up not to me for to decide which ones will grow and which ones
will drift away, which will offer the new spring seeds for next
year's day. I offer but a blessing as I see you go, and hope that
you find whatever it is that you must sew, be kind and gentle, bend
to the wind and sing your songs wherever you go. I watch you pass
from here to there, knowing the true ones meant to stay will become
dear, and flower for many the sightfull cheer. So friends I say adu,
and hope your path will stay true, may angels guide you to your
destination, shelter you in your choices, and honor you with new
places. Find love, find trust, find honor, and find peace for today
I see my seeds scatter and wonder where the wind is taking them.
Maybe I will see them on the road ahead, a place where the path grows
wide in the course it steads, or maybe they are behind me like a
trail of the future following. To offer the light of sun, and the
caress of wind, the thirst of rains filling your petals to nourish
again, and be well dear ones as we pass into the nether where but our
moments touched one another.

Aurora

For a friend whom has knocked on my wood of
awakening and has been there ever since.

There were two trees,

Each as strong as the other

But different woods they lived

By and by a seed flew by

And landed in a place of beginnings.

Now as the seed grew

An acorn dropped close by

And the two trees united

For a time in purpose and growth

They found comfort in the sun and rain

The stories the old trees shared with them

They grew tall in the face of storms

That lashed at their branches

Soon the two tress bent their own ways

One had become a strong and useful maple

The other had become a strong and sturdy oak

Both became beautiful with full leaves

And they still shared the wealth of nature

They sheltered small birds in their limbs

Enjoyed their songs and danced on the wind

They shook their leaves rattling

And this became their voices

Then the two friends wrote

To each other in the sacred Ogham -

The language of the trees

As a symbol of their enduring friendship

For each had sent their seeds scattering to the winds

In hope they prospered and found good soil

The comfort of friends that did not choke their growth

As they found in each other

Such is mine.

As two people asked the question of the trees

And found themselves knocking on the woods

Of one another's limbs in the breeze

To awaken the dream that was always good.

~Autumn

By Autumn

I walk from the city into the tall trees topped with moss,

I am the gift the being the person on a mission of light seeking wisdom that comes through the journey,

I trod through puddles and through soft earth losing my shoes somewhere along the way,

A thorn bites into my foot and buries itself deep reminding me of careful steps to make along the way,

I watch animals walk from the concealed forests around me onto my path and witness their hungry eyes to fill my soul with a presence of strong primal energies,

My mouth yawns open investing in me the spiral of the track I lay behind in footprints through the journey,

A large waterfall opens herself before me as I cross a
bridge of native passing she has many rivers that flow
into the one to make so great of carving into the
stone,

There is a question before me on this venture like a
quest of crusades made of my own ilk,

The water freezes into ice and my feet are warning me to walk no more until things change and the seasons warmth returns to the rainforest where water sun and life intermingle,

I meet three people on my path for whom will turn
me back and carry me with a prepared venture in the
future from one destination to the next,

A yew tree springs forth and they usher me like messengers of the Otherworld bearing my soul forth until I can go no more,

I reach a great way of water and I fear to go
anymore with nothing on my back and a shoeless path full of thorns speaking my intuition and from whence I
learned on this way I turn back,

They understand as night falls that to camp here is difficult but we have lit a torch that is my own in spite of difficulty my inner light carrying us through the night with the bear and the jaguar crouching on the shadows,

Mann takes from me the thorn in my foot and warms them from the cold he beckons me to walk some more yet although he and the two others carry packs I have none and take none but advice,

The auroch testing me in a time of change though I walk heavy with my ancestral guides I come through a flood that threatens to take me away,

Watching and waiting we shall see where my destination
lies and this great gift that is in other's eyes now
becomes one with the healer on the quest to personal
growth. 

A dream ~ Autumn

Date:  Mon Sep 24, 2001  12:43 am
Subject:  Shelter

By Autumn

I am in a great house,

Made of animals and people living side by side,

We are healers and helpers,

Handling the wounded ones with care,

Loving those left for death,

Given a new place in peace,

My hands caring for the sweet ones lost,

I walk in fresh and new but given a task to do,

My heart is wide and the journey is long,

I run head long through a glass fall,

Window is broken and I dive down,

Not caring about the pain,

Shattered shards fall with me into a pool,

Feels like icy sparks,

I see blue in the waters all around me,

My hair wrapping around my submerged beauty,

I breath emerging like a seal into the day,

And see the cathedral walls around me,

Know all that is holy in this heart,

And it is not the walls that make this place,

But the heart and the mind,

Where lamb lives side by side with lion,

And I understand my healing hand,

Given by the great Creator,

And I walk side by side with the Greenman,

Under the bow of trees,

Birds take flight,

We are shadows he and I,

Where the kingdom is the sky,

And I can grow to love my peace,

In a shelter of man and beast.

From:  Autumn
Date:  Sat Aug 4, 2001  10:14 pm
Subject:  Native Earth

Today I saw the hawk fly

Little bird chaser on accipiters tail

Away from the captors of wilderness

Bars covering the sad and broken faces

Of amusement these ambassadors are confined

But further yet beyond the lily pond bridges

Where houses abut the landscape

Once held sacred by the waters of the lake

Where cattails blew on the wind like flutes

And a sweet song drifted in the air

The great thunderbird soared here

Turtle slipping into the water

Peeking above in hidden green

Silently smiling at me

Then scooting away as disturbance walks this way

Up farther on the path yet

I spy with my eye a protrusion of ancient ways

Rock outlines scattered on the pruned grasses

I can see the prairie here among the trees

Here the rush of thundering drums

As a chorus of voices bring to me

The circadian rhythm slanted in the evening glow

Soft falls the sun into the hills

Slow is the beat here where my hands reach

My feet leading me towards that unknown

Someone before me had understood

Built effigy in her belly 

For burial

For life

For the honor of our children’s children

Teacher be the land that feeds

The animals that breathe and speak the stories of creation

Low sits the belly of this great turtle

And the haunted memories of a time past

I long to visit once again

And seek in her the truth of native habitation

And the story of the way to walk onwards again

So lightly like the hawk flying above

And see the pictures that educate my soul

Calling me onto the council round

The ancient whispers of the rivers and lakes

Spirit of place reclaiming itself inside of me

And so I vibrate in tune and weep for the past

Where the water air and land guardians when the plow took hold?

Buried in a culture that nearly lost it all

And now come the children of new of one true race

Unite and tell us

Fear no more that understanding will be lost

For we hear the beat and cannot help but weep

For the song is beautiful in its misty dew

Fog sweeping and curling around the bear the eagle the water spirits too

Come sit with me chants the reeds

Come gather your energy and fill us again with the
love

Understand me now and sway with the beat that flows inside you

Honor is what is needed to piece us back together

So succumb to this night where hands rest on earthen
delight

And my heart carries on this memory of a broken
landscape

And the hawk that carried me this far

My ancestors telling me this is no cemetery

This is a more sacred space

It is indeed where visions were created

It is where man once found divine creation

In the belly of a land bordering on water

Where animals spoke the stories

And where ritual filled the land in thanks for the sun greeting the moon

The seasons turning

For the journey the soul undertakes

So I see my nature clearly of three lives commanded by the elements

Held in the rising mounds of earthly art

So flies the hawk’s eye chased by the little bird on its tail.

Fall sun lowering below the trees

The landscape is covered in an orange haze

Lower and lower it sinks son Lugh

Arian rises above kissing her little one

The great wheel connecting a web of stars

Caught in them is her smile and grace

A air of mist will fall tonight

And the clouds pass by whispering Samhain

On the cool breezes of rustling leaves

The daylight falls faster beneath the seas

To give mother a chance to rest

And to shine up high where she can observe

The workings of the harvest time

Regeneration sprouts in the late blooming flowers

Reminding us of the deeper colors that life provides

To fill the eyes with a rich sense of blood

That gave the earth bounty

And the colors of the sky now covered in twinkling lights

A sun-fall and a sunrise in the time of the full moon

There is nothing like the sweet smell of smoke

Wood stoves and fires kindling the leaves of fire

Ashes of these that give fuel

Now come due their time under the breath of fall

But give thanks for they are part of us

And every sun must rise and every sun must set

For the beauty of the moment is impermanent

Though comes a peace from these moments

Where we look to the west to see the great sun set

And rise to greet again Lugh in his mother’s house

And watch the chariots fly a warrior burning in the sky

Smiling down on me and bending to kiss

Like a butterfly of orange-yellow bliss

My eyes are watchful of this gift

And tomorrow again I will except there are new paths

Things have changed but beauty is there still to see

In the leaves falling all around me

Their scent welcome to my nose

And I rejoice in the moment that allowed me to live

In the colors of Autumn and the gentle breeze

The stars shining overhead and the moon gazing down on me

I feel lighter somehow of the worries befalling thee

For surely another will be able to see the way I see

And look to the same stars directing me

Know the time that is mine caught in a sudden light wind

To look where I look

At the horizon where he dips to kiss the Earth

The land being part of my extension

A tree flaming in the colors of the sun

And an eagle waiting there for him

I reach my arms out extending to the son of the evening

And whisper then the words that so many leave unspoken

Love is here

Beauty is here

And my heart is yours to grasp

For I look upon you with eyes of kindness

And understand the fine balance that your ride
requires

Though I wish to gain more

I want only to please you and love you

 cont...

Transcending the trappings of a stationary life

Each day awash with these messages

I long to be the tree of peace and grow strong the four roots

To the east where the sun rises

To the west where the sun sets

To the north where the great winds blow

And to the south where the great waters flow

I will tap the elements in a swirl and center it to the self

And think of it as the great base where leaves will
grow

Flourish and then fall as each color grows and it is time to let go

I will drum to you love and know that there is so much more awaiting me

In a time of change I will let the storms pass my house by

Battering the elements and churning the sky

But always will there be another sunset for Lugh to ride

Then as the night falls as it is to me now

I witness the geese setting coarse to the south

Silently honking in the rivers of air

And I think now how the deer are feeding under the moon

The corn husks withering after a long summer heat

They have produced their corn and we have mowed the wheat

Orange pumpkins glowing on withered vines

Like a moon they do shine in their round abundance

I smile to the faces I see growing within that once tiny seed

The apples too have grown ripe on the sacred tree

Fallen to feed the turkey and the deer grazing near

And we too take delight in the feast provided to us

This is what fills my heart now 

As I listen to the animals telling how great the Earth has provided

With acorns fallen and squash has grown

To see us through a winter where we can take rest

We can come to reflect on our memories and look towards the future

Plan a life in accordance to the seasons

One by one the fires being lit

To keep out the chill air that nips

Listen to the crackle and the whispering voices

Of our ancestors guiding us in story and in song

Filling our minds with love to be strong

And hear the message deep down

The last bursting rays of light on my eye lids leave me content 

And I peer up to know that there is still light up there

Through all the darkness they wheel and turn 

To remind us again of the balance of light and dark throughout all

For we are one with the earth and one with the
people

One with the land and united in all aspects of our
consciousness

Once we allow the sun to guide the way

Into a rebirth of natural living today.

~Autumn

By Autumn

Come sit with me down by the fire

Drinking in the darkness

tossing seeds into thick growth

Choking out the light

For I am a wandering tree

Built to survive the night

Skeletal beauty on the edge of water

Cliff ledge is my home after all others have erode

This the way onwards

To breath deep the salty sea air

And to dangle my limbs to the breath of the God there

Calling me onwards to grow green and strong

Knotted loop of circle bare

Hard is my wood from weathered time against my bark

Scattered seed on the wind of night

Blown here to dangle my feet in the waves below

Circle bearing me round from earthen root to crown

This is how I stand now.

By Autumn

Green dream of serenity,

My prism sun emanating a rainbow,

Lighting the way back towards home,

My mind drifts like the wind rustling,

The beautiful maple leaves dancing,

Waving to the breeze drifting in and out,

Between the shadows and between the light,

Shading me from the hot summer sun,

So I rest and ponder my thoughts upward,

Climbing like an ivy to the heights found there,

The bark limbs of the mother caressing my meaning,

Her sweet scents driving me to further luminosity,

Intoxicating the dreamy mind,

Letting go that of which has weighted me,

Breathing deeply the moment and the meditation found with tree gazing,

The face peers to me from the moss,

Star faced mouth agape,

Bearded green mask watching - ever watching that bright face of recollection,

It dawns on me how special it has all become,

To see the divinity in the sun,

To gaze at a tree and see that they are all part of One,

and from that One where the void drew the sun,

Burns bright the love for each and everyone,

So peace be gained from tree sitting shade,

In a human heart there still remains,

One moment of time to be gained,

Of awareness from the strain,

The leafy man of green serenity,

Help me see that once upon a time,

Far away in a land so close you can call it home.

~Love and light gentle souls

There is a place in my heart tilting on its axis

Radial points bringing me into seasonal balance

Which what us up, which way is down?

No one can really tell

Except for in the place where trees do dwell

Here in Freedom Woods the butterfly will spell

The winds of change echo in every hallowed shell

Where the owl hoots the night away

And the robin cherrios the sun of day

Here in Freedom Woods.

The mind mazes are hard at play

The walls of green lead you far astray

But closer to home where the voices are your own

And like the dogs that bay,

The howl of solace brings family together again

Binding the kin of shadows in common name.

The spokes of the circle radiating out from the wheel

Each pie piece a arrow knocked on the target

Like a compass the rock tells me so

The magnitude of the northern folk cloaked by the cold

So which way is up and which way is down?

Ask the butterfly she will tell

That of which flies here in Freedom Woods

On gilded wings of soft velvet tissue

Listen closely to the merry song

Riddling and leading us on

From the metamorphosis of our bonds,

Encapsulated in the voice of Freedom woods.

By Autumn

The sunlight pours through the open birch patches,

Early successional rag tag plants,

But its restorative properties will grow with a chance to overcome the saws,

So the forest can be seen for the trees and not just the bramble and the weeds,

But just as easily we forget the value of the youth,

And take them out too for open plains and fields,

The warblers chime in on their softening trills,

There are fewer now than years before,

Their migration succumbs to the lesser forests,

Their hunger on landfall can not be satisfied,

So these little forest jewels flicker and flash becoming as ever rare as the last old-growth,

When the value of market prices lets me give up my sanctuary I will not be able to stand much longer,

My heart will break with the drumming chant of the blood pulse,

My drum crying with my fallen tears,

My hands being used for the good of restoration of my ecology,

Here is my place among the first rays of morning,

Here is the place of the living woods where a bird can be a jewel and a fox another fur on my track,

Not all is as it seems but as it seems it is in its purity,

In this land of pruned forestry all in a row straight as ducks,

The pine succeeds in conquering the whole diversity,

Sweet smells of sap covering our hands like blood.

Date:  Mon Apr 2, 2001  8:26 pm
Subject:  Greenfire

By Autumn

Pluck me a million stars from the sky

Give me the world in your eyes

Promise me a bouquet of dreams

Fill my crane purse with the beached bones

And the tiniest of gemstones

Sing me a song that will sway the Greenman timbers

Give me a drum with a steady heartbeat

This is what I ask of you

Is it so much to offer these

Or else give me your face

And it will shine like the brilliant day

When my eyes reflect the blue of sky

And my fingers curl around your own

Solitude broken in your eyes

But welcomed companionship

No this wolf has no pack

Her howls are for the woods alone

But all you have to do is ask

And I will consider the trees that bend

And try to find the harmony in our songs

Can we walk the beach together

Leaving tracks for the weather to wear

While I can show you my purse to fill

Of glittering gem and rock so rare

Raw and simple they come from this earth

Polished by the beating raptured waves

And picked by my hand for some special day

Daisy chains and yarrow floral circlets adorn my hair

Dancing again near Superior shore

Logs milled and sawn fallen by stormy lashes

Raging to give us and strip me of my inner bark

Leaving me my willow wands

Long and sinewy they are the Goddess’s arm

Art in nature’s form

Sandpipers of joy why do you walk away from me

Your tiny prints trailing to the distant horizon

When a lone wolf ventures into new territory

Seeking the new smells and markers of a way back home

Campfire nights with a starry array

I walk still on this silent prey

Let me share the life of longing in my greenfire
eyes

And by the hills we can watch the sunset

Mirrors on the lake comes the final burst of day

Piercing the clouds in the dimness

From my purse I pour the stones 

Hold out your hand and you shall have my quarry

The trumpet prize of glory

While you take these and cup them near

Find my own hands and reassure

My grasp climbing the pine tree bark to the farthest branch

If you follow my lead I will show you

A place where the moon rises over waterfall

Extended in her pale face on to the glistening lake

Pinecones swinging from the limbs

Dangling like my legs on brazen fall

Leaping to my joy my sorrowful flight

Owl hoots on this night

Deep in woods calls the Greenman of the hart

Sire staged and horned with the brass torc of ancient
clan

Careful place to step for any man

Here white trilliums and lilies bloom

Cornflower woman of this land seeks peace and respite from men’s hands

Under the great hemlock trees where value of mine does
place

Peregrine journey to find my rocky mountain scrape

On my watchtower I wail

Watching the slithering snake of river wind into green hillside

And below this fire perch walks the doe who fauns

The bear lumbering near the dew drop stands

Secret lynx hidden in your domain stalking with your endangered pelt

The moose who wolf craves to take down like in the old days goes no farther

But only to pass into the deer lands

My place beside a endless spance of water meeting sky 

Was sacred by the forest where unicorns still hide

Recovered in a year of favorable winds

My tracks led you deep into the shades of tree covered life

Did you follow, did I deceive

Where shall I find you again as I have lost the scent

But yet I still wait and hot to catch you in the preserve

My memory holds you here in this virginal land

Far away from my untouched hands

Where we can pluck a million stars together and put
them back in the purse

So we can spill them together uncursed

Broken by the seal of leaping hearts and healed wounds

Mended by the forest my memory holds.

By Autumn

This is how the finished version goes, I simply
call it The Watcher, because that is how I feel when I
travel on these wings.

All at once I feel the spirits residing in me,

Growing and teaching no more ignorance,

Through years of listening to the wind,

I have come to be the wind and respect its restless ways,

Then as the wind died I found myself on the
waters,

Lapping and wearing at the rock that bound my
shores,

When the water dried and I became cloud again,

I knew the heart of a bird on the wing,

And I leapt into its being with the freedom of flight but the need for height,

To dip and live with a foodless night,

So with the bird's end came the cat,

Stalking among the trees and waiting for the light,

And when the cat was chased and scandalized,

I became the dog mastered and petted by the warm hearth night,

But dreaming of my wild ancestors who still howled my
foreign life,

When I lay down for the long sleep I woke to find myself the hare,

So gentle and dashing I became the fountain of others life,

Ripe and promising with green fields I fed happily till my night,

Then one day I awoke with the screaming birth,

A child of man who learned the secrets of the earth
wind and sea,

My roots spread wide and flourished to watch another pass,

Greeting the souls who were blessed with early human life

And knew little of the ancestral path,

I tuck my knowledge under my arm and spread my hands wide,

Embracing my brothers and sisters with my own lifespan,

Treating them as a love forever welcomed into the trees wide girth,

As I branched out and found faces upon the leaves
that rustled,

And I watched the bird fly free in the sky that was me,

And I watched the rabbit run under the yellow sun,

And I felt the cat climb in the branches so high,

And I saw the dog chase the tail of folly,

So I take them all in as I once was,

As a warrior of peace and love in the truth laden
skies. 

And again I feel my soul leap free,

Boundless in the unchained body,

I at once feel myself rustle the branches,

Stirring the greened leaves and sweeping the old,

The color that flourishes in those last moments so brilliant to the eyes,

My arms so infinite go out to gather those sweet souls and return them to the everlasting night,

Where the land glistens with the dew and feeds itself upon the green shores,

The waters lap and pound on the stone,

The earth rises sharply offering flowers from the foam,

The sea answers the call of the wind rippling over its
waves,

Curling the crests with the spiral energies that
flow,

So my soul travels over the lands full of sands rippled by the wind,

Cracked by the heating sun and preserved for time immeasurable,

It trickles slowly through the glass,

I caress the bounty of the waters,

Fish leap with the knowledge found there,

Like angels they fly in the deep cold oceans of dark,

Gliding sweeping the bottom with their opposite
world,

The eagle dashes at the sea catching his prey and
turns the fish upside-down,

His world ever lost and forgotten in the depths of the clouded sun,

Eagle feasts and rests on the mountain ledges,

Rearing the young on perilous wings,

Thunder falls on the blue skies striking the king’s bells,

Then I rise and begin again,

Searching for the knowledge not forgotten,

Searching the tree for the leaves faces,

My soul rests again in the cranes neck,

Wing sheltering the waters shadow,

Standing like the reeds so tall and light,

Whispering the red winged songs cackles and chants,

Seeds float and dance and the waters become still in the boggy lands,

Speared fish dance around the tall-legged feathers,

My blue wings lift and take me to roost,

Searching the waters by the moonlight and standing still as my great spear takes aim,

The lining of the ospreys nest filled by my feathered kin,

Bag of bones and secrets to fill my purse,

So I am again lifted by the mans hand in pursuit of the stag’s life,

And am now running along the rolling hills of chalk
white down,

My horns mimic my tree ancestors,

A bluff and charge given with my fight,

My eyes so brown and clear with the scents of the forest near,

So I come again to protect my hills,

And I crash to the earth with the mighty bows,

One arrow plucked from the heavens string,

My restless soul to wander again,

I lift and I rise and I choose to find a new life,

Searching for the light of centuries among those to be birthed,

Choosing my time for the lessons to be learned,

Gleaming from them the ignorance that was once too bold,

Changing my heart to learn the love so forgotten and cold,

To give oath to the memories and covet the life for what it holds,

As I stand a warrior among men,

Of truth be told I am a sun’s ray dancing upon a cloudless night,

The joy of a stag born on this first night,

I am the crest of a wave churning the endless drumming
circles,

And I am the crane, who lifts up into the moonless
night,

So I am filled with the knowledge of pain, and of
hurt,

No life goes without its anguish but some must only
learn to be the wind,

That can rise higher and higher till the mountain holds bar no more,

Then can I sing the restless song and drum the ever-pounding waters,

With my voice I become a singer and a seer,

With my dreams I find the life so forgotten with my pain,

And with my truths I call the spirits home,

To forever fill the children with the light and the knowledge of my own.

For I am the watcher,

I am the singer,

I am the dancer,

I am the player,

Of this drum,

May I come to fill the sun forever with this
life,

And dance as a crown filled king among the heaven’s
rays of night,

And witness the lessons and learn them to my hearts own beat,

As blood filled rhythms told through the night,

My hands reaching out to the leaves that rustle beside me,

Keeping my palm outstretched to the winds touch,

Sometimes it hugs and sometimes it lashes,

But my soul will remain green until it's day,

When the seasons come brown it and tint it with time,

And then I can fall and sweep out from mine,

The form searching again the spirit so whole,

That ever lasting place of Avalon of old.

By Autumn

Watch me bath you in the waters of the spring,

Watch me give my self for your gifts,

Watch me bend your boughs of life,

Watch me make the life flow again in a perfect circle,

Watch my thoughts dance with your beautiful gifts,

Bending wills round and round they go,

Catching spirits on the fly,

Dream catcher - dream catcher, 

Such a gift,

Of Mother Willow and moonlight above,

Watch her gifts flourish in the night time winds,

And share them with her children,

Oh watch me Mother so I may make your circle strong,

Hoops of love the energy I give, 

Oh watch me mother as I collect thy gifts. 

She is the gentle lady sweeping low,

To embrace her child of earth 

Of sky and water she draws her roots, 

To dangle on the edge of two worlds,

Entangling both in her sinewy limbs,

I found spider one eve,

Collecting from a sister,

What luck have I,

Every time spider whispers be gentle,

And I will teach you my secrets,

That of which ye already know,

But I will bless your gifts of our Great Mother, 

And give it meaning,

And so sad so few see it,

And so I collect my mothers gifts in sadness,

For I would to see her reach the sky,

But she grows in strength of you and I,

In our circles we create and the web,

We weave to great Spider Woman above, 

How she shines down upon us with her brilliant love,

Sleep well my child she whispers to the wind,

As the feathers dangle in hear breath,

Be well my child and I will protect you as you drift,

Child of the willowy branches am I,

Gathering her sweet scents a gift of health,

And of sacred prayers,

Be well my mother as I close my eyes,

And thank you for the gift.

By Autumn

Snow laden grounds still by nights chill breeze, fairy ring haze circles blow 

Walk the plain fields trim with winters harvest bed shimmering crystals white underfoot sparkle with high moon 

Each breath cyclical time with your heart sweet motion of stride destination to seek 

Gathering swiftness lest the hour be forgot

Cape sweeps the snow into dusts behind you leaving no
traces like wolf solitary journey under nights brewing
stars 

Shadows play and old reeds blow hollow tunes
flutes of a season past 

In the distance he stands waiting, gallant stallion -gallant steed, heir unbroken eyes that meet

Take me to the giving tree, take me to the guardian

Golden sickle beneath your robe shimmers for but an
instant 

In moons quarter phase you simulate all that must be under moons cycle

The season is nigh for the birch to burn and fire hearth to be kept 

But there is one gift left, one of desire and one of
magick

Deadly potions but weaver of love your duality grows
within plant

Berries round must be carefully gathered, tree grows closer his shadow still waits under the moon

Your breath quickens with sight of him and the mighty
oak

Gateway entered to sacred grounds you begin your
chants

Thrumming your sound to the four corners playing your
chords like harp string mellow

Hair whipping in the wind as you release yourself from the hooded embrace

You come under the limbs and begin to search the
branches for the sacred gift

The third ray spied you, offer sweet blessing to prune with golden sickle the light of season 

The kiss stolen from tree of might, and bring it down over shadow night

And he is there greeting you temptation, embracing you with arms so wide and taking the circular breath unto each other

Spirit of time - Spirit of night - Spirit of wood and of glen lie your concubine under moonlight grounds held by earth and star under Arianrhods wheel

When you finally release and break away to task of Mistletoe, how will you speak of this night now so dear

To no ones ear ceremony done and tree nymphs listen for departure

So round about they go working their magick may to create a new kiss for another day but be this season merry

As one kiss has been stolen with sickle gold and oak
adorn.

By Autumn

I got up this morning and wanted to scribble a few notes, 

The sun was perfectly placed on my old friend and I treasure it as the days go on, 

Fearing that the spring will bring lightning to her.

Sunlight pours through the crystalline fields,

Shards of stormy winds splintered off the old oak,

Clouds roll back from nighttime cover,

Rays bounce off the sturdy belly,

First light pure as the dawn’s crest,

Water pooled from thaw inside her breast,

Warming the heart of a hollow friend,

Acorns sail out of the root,

Tiny boats on this pool now frozen into the sea,

Leaf print so perfect and simple in icy snows,

But there is no leaf,

So I gather the spirit after a windy day,

Limbs knocking on limbs,

Drum of hallow life,

Lonely sighs singing through the tree,

Birthed waters seeping to the roots,

As the sunlight pours through the fields,

And lights its old suns rays on the oak of a winter’s day.

By Autumn

Oak dreams slumber in my heart,

Acorns round fertility still unsprung,

Growing full and rip to fall to our mother,

Her feet heavy with love for the youth,

Lightning quick silver flashes,

And the sky is set asunder,

Through the high beat,

Rains and winds chant to seed,

Acorn awareness strong in me,

Prompted to plant your feet by mother’s,

Limbs fall from her body,

But the rain wakes me from oaken slumber,

I stretch and grow under the last remaining shade,

To come to hug my mother in this last breath,

She takes me and passes on her years,

History is unfurled with one mighty stroke,

From the father’s sky where the sun does rise,

Parting the heavens for the beam of light,

When sun fills my veins,

Channeling the leaf from the rain,

Elemental spirits gather before us,

As mother nourishes the grounds,

I too grow from it and let her pass,

Now given her simple passing,

Waiting and swaying with the sun,

Watching the hawks pass,

And sheltering the lonely ones,

Let my branches reach up into the sky,

And my roots reach down to the water and earth,

So shall be held within my triple birth,

One day my seed will be ripe,

To give the legend anon,

And fuel the wee children within me.

Date:  Mon Feb 19, 2001  6:20 pm
Subject:  Tree bones

By Autumn

My father is held within the dying tree, 

My calling is held within the dying tree,

My heart beats for it,

My legs are pulled to my chest,

My body held as an infant,

A circle flows inside me,

No air flows through the walls,

But one continuous breath is held;

Given to my creator,

The bark is rough but warm,

An owl roost none dare disturb,

Nighttime child with arms outstretched,

My arms are that of the dying tree,

My body is the bark that covers the dying tree,

My feet are the roots of this dying tree,

One grows towards the soil,

Another grows towards the water,

And the other grows towards the sun,

I am whole inside this tree,

There is a forest of me inside this tree,

All around is the light that penetrates the branches,

But patches of gray emerge and shelter me,

From the stroke of dawn my brother calls to me,

From beyond the woods,

Waking me to greet and play with him,

Take me from my father’s bones,

Lain from deep within the trunks,

Placed as a magick chamber to hide secret souls,

Where one can be one and all will be all,

So the creator flows through us and gives us love,

My brother comes close teasing me from my home,

He peeks his head into the hole,

It is dark but he sees father’s bones,

I take his hand outstretched,

Emerging from the world of solitude,

Listening to the birds that were music to my soul,

Lulling me to a sleep within my fathers bones,

So awaken me my brother and let the world call,

In play and merriment fill us all,

My skip my prance through the wood carries me from
sleep,

To be again the child of dreams we seek.

By Autumn

The green tangled vine,

Taking hold of my wrists,

I surrender to fit,

Sobbing an irreversible plea,

To those that would listen,

To those who would give me the world,

To him that would give me the sky,

Such insolent bravery,

He would not see me do this,

The power of wild vine my own,

My own detriment,

My own peril,

So I keep the vine to hold me,

Let me wrap that cocoon around me,

My veiled greenery shunning me from emptiness outside,

Giving me a placid sleep,

A false awakening to the stirrings of the forest,

And so these vines curl and wrap slow in time,

But massive in amount,

Weaving me a new skin,

Holding my lofty soul down,

Tiny pink flowers grow on my butterfly soul,

Welcoming sweet trumpeting hummers,

Bringing steadfast workers of the queen,

Offering a lullaby,

Giving sweet nectar,

Receiving the pollen from another far off cocoon,

Flowering vines soon give way to the seed,

Of tree so small it is but a sapling,

But the vine still rendering strength,

To this lowly begotten tree,

Leaves begin to grow on green roots,

Digging deep into the earth,

Finding the seasons rains tapping on my outstretched arms,

Percolating down into the root,

Giving of deep black soil the needs met by me,

And still the bees thrive and visit,

Caterpillars still cocoon in my soul,

But grow translucent,

My shade harboring multitudes of birds,

Singing about the day I listen patiently,

Then one comes to sit on my arms,

Asking how high the wind is,

And in the space of moments slow awareness grows,

Child no more, 

Sapling grows into the mighty renowned,

One of the many in the forest,

But I look to see the changes to my friends the vine,

And see vine no longer betangling my wraith soul,

All around me stands open field,

And I am the lone oak,

With redtail perched on my branches,

Asking about the wind,

I begin to answer slowly,

As my branches finally begin to sway,

And feel the sun seep through my leaves,

Revel in the knock that stirred me,

Rapped thrice on my rough body,

And below me stands the great stag,

With horns of great spread he could be akin to me,

And I know we are,

He lies beneath this space I know offer,

In his own sweet slumber,

My awareness dims and I watch the clouds pass by,

Making rabbits and birds out of the sky,

And knowing that I am who I am,

And to change me and not give vine,

Of this nectar would not come wine.

By Autumn

The voices of the woods unfold as sweet scents of
decaying leaves harbor the secrets of the season and
leaves blow with the blustery winds, 

Listen to the branches sway and discover the magick of autumn all around you for winter soon approaches with its chill frost and snowy thoughts of dormancy and rest, 

The spirit world opens its gates to a new year and the haunts rush their words before the veil closes with the fallen leaves.

Why do we let the wild trees suffer the pains of
injustice by saw, when the girdle of our own protected
ancestral giants grow strong symbolically in our front
yards? 

In taming our forests we tame and civilize our hearts, with tokens of that departure to not be forgotten but instead allowed to grow so close to our
hearth.

These pains of injustice do not occur to many, we grow
up seeing that tree outside the window bare with a
tire swing hanging there.

Turning its season, growing ring by ring, branches outstretched to reach the sky and tangled roots buried deep into the earth. 

But instead of the jagged edge of a natural tare by wind, we find saw.

So neatly biting we know it must not be the ferocity of a cutting wind but instead controlled and concise in a human dominance. 

If the tree should ever threaten the home and hearth may the great spirit take her, because this token love of the wildness will be lost. 

Measure the tree by its board, and sized up and prized no more. 

A token tree is not valued as highly in its death, because only the wildwood does not harbor the the forces man seeks to control.

With spikes and chains and saws that bite, so too will
they strike to the core and be buried there forever
more. 

Watch the trees and look for yourself, see the girdle of the wildwood so skinny and compare. 

Why do we let the pains of injustice strike that the
wildwood when we can have a tree grow tall and fare, let them not be tokens of our dominance but tokens of the love that we share.

Standing on a stump,
that used to be a tree,
But now is nothing more,
than a childhood memory,
Remembering how its arms,
used to stretch across the yard,
As it stood a silent sentinel,
ever standing guard.
As years passed on, it stood its ground,
as things around it changed,
An anchor in the sea of time,
it always stayed the same.
It had no goals, except to live,
and then to spread its seed.
It lived without the faults of men,
no ambition hate or greed.
This tree hurt no on in its life,
It merely stood its ground.
In fact, it offered comfort,
to all creatures that were around.
The birds found solace in its limbs,
And lived within its leaves.
Here life had begun, as they taught their young,
To learn to fly and sing.
And squirrels lived within its trunk,
And slept the winter through,
And the nuts they stored came from the tree,
Which serviced them with food.
And even I, a human child,
Took comfort from the tree.
In summer months, when the sun beat down,
Its shade protected me.
At times Id lean against its trunk,
And could feel the love it would lend,
And it may sound absurd, but without a word,
This tree became my friend.
But as time passed I had to leave,
To roam the world around,
And years later when I returned,
I found the tree cut down.
What once had stood so tall and proud,
Now lay on its side,
What once had been so full of life,
Now had sadly died.
And I found the man that owned the land,
He that had killed the tree,
And I asked him then, how a man
Could commit this atrocity.
He told me then how in the fall,
Leaves would fall upon his yard.
And how in his age, raking them into piles,
Had just grown to hard.
So to stop the tree from making a mess,
With leaves lying cluttered around.
He got his saw and cut the tree,
And brought the old thing down.
And as I listened to his tale,
My heart was filled with rage.
That because of an annoyance, with no real harm,
This tree was now in its grave.
But as I thought of the tree,
a tear came to my eye.
And the man stared at me, confused as could be,
Unable to understand why.
"Dear boy," he sad, "The tree is dead,
But I can not see...
Why you weep over such a thing,
After all, it was just a tree."

By Autumn

I stand and contemplate my actions,

my last filled memories of the willow time,

where slow breezes sway my mind but blow quick,

one last taking, one last giving, one last bending,

give thanks to the Mother for all she hath given me,

and sadness set in my mind,

how we do take but in the taking I hope that she knows my spirit,

and if not for those whom make the the web with ignorance,

I will say it for them,

thank you Mother for your willow time,

crow soars on above my head, cawing me to harken her
voice,

glides with as do the right and take one last time,

a look at my great mother her seed her progeny given to
my summer,

and I say grow strong grow tall, 

for in my absence I know you must take root, 

and listen to the dreams that you have given,

and I had helped make the sweet feather blow.

Oak-Soul

By Sean Burrows

I’ve known the warlock
I’ve known the witch
I’ve known the Christian
The temptress
The priest

I’ve known the wise-man
The human
The fool
The man in the gutter
The man born to rule

I am oak-soul , painter of word
Sculptor of sweet song , lover of wood
I am oak-soul , made whole by a heart

I’ve run with Ephona
Heard Macha spake curse
I’ve laughed at the satire
Poured mead on his thirst

I am oak-soul , artist of rhyme
Player of story , taster of time
I am oak-soul , cryer of tear

I have drunk from the Cup of Cernunnos
Broke bread with the Dagda and Pan
I’ve danced with fair Morgan
Felt love with both hands
And I’ve sat in the stillness
Neath pale willow light
Under the old tree
Deep out of sight

I am oak-soul – I am worker of magic….

Ag damhsa leis an Mhorrigu

Oak, Ash and Thorn

Oak, Ash and Thorn

Oak, ash and Thorn…..

Agus ansin - ansin thainig an Mhorrigu…..

Thainig na faeries

Agus na waves on ocean

Thainig an fir-bolg too

Agus an sidhe

Gach duine on everywhere came…

Ach thainig an Mhorrigu, thainig an Mhorrigu

Oak, Ash and Thorn

OaK, Ash and Thorn

You’ve thrown it all away my friends

You’ve thrown it all away

Oak, Ash and Thorn

You’ve thrown it all away….

You’ve slane our stag my friend

Our wild mountain goat

A white rose at midnight

For the wolf at your throat

With Anu at dawn

Agus Macha to right

Badb behind me

An Dagda go cle

Agus eye at the centre

Eye - at the centre

Thorn, Ash and Oak

I call for your help

Thorn, Ash and Oak

Thorn, Ash and Oak

I call for your help

Thorn, Ash and Oak

Thorn, Ash and Oak

Thorn, Ash and Oak

By Autumn

In the small time,

I have come full circle,

teaching myself lessons,

that were thought lost,

giving me a name to call,

a crux to lie upon,

a feverous fire to burn in,

and a gift for the visions,

a place to call truth,

in otherwise visionary ghosts,

and i have come to claim,

my innermost being,

wandering on some forgotten road,

but no less happy,

for the grass grows thick,

a wavy bed of green,

stirring my being,

clawing and rooting for the soil,

to feed and nourish my beast,

to let me rest on soft covers,

under a blanket of light,

and to offer me a haven,

world that is mine,

with endless changes,

so stirs the grass with the breeze,

so stirs my heart with the winds,

and i look to the puffs overhead,

how the changes pass quickly,

this great teacher,

this honorable guide,

nature's splendor cradles my live,

so i plant my being and wave to the wind,

smelling green hints of beauty,

and so my mind sparks,

to the summer that always glows,

from this frozen season to the flowers that grow,

waiting for that first thaw,

that will yield prophecy,

under return of the new born soul,

that grows and wavers under watery dream,

of fields filled with plenty,

and hearty laughter that stirs the wind chimes bells,

growing and shaping the puffed white clouds overhead,

giving innocent eyes the land that still runs free,

careless times that abound in vivid pictures,

growing into a tender flame that burns under the suns
rays,

feeding the child that pulls up a silver of green,

to see the intricate cycle that approaches,

this youth supreme and innocent as the springs leaves,

grows full with each passing moment of the knowledge of the world,

and the blue eyes ever filled in adulthood with the same truths,

but once lost has been found in a span of mere moments,

of remembrance of the blades of grass that wavered tall,

and the blue skies that calmed,

giving truths that lay untold for centuries of youth,

each memory lies the same as the first discovery of the soften bedded ecosystems,

butterflies but simple dwellers to a magic time,

in each persons memory,

serving as but a enchantress and a trigger,

to this secret time,

to live among both worlds at but one time without being lost,

is a memory for us all,

and so we give into the simple pleasures,

as to when men give and are free to simple folly of
being free.

By Autumn

Just a simple poem that occurred to me looking at
our large pine today. Enjoy,

Ancient pines whisper to me,

Their green fires never dying,

Shaded mystery standing tall,

There is never just one,

You grow in numbers,

You grow in strength,

Let me whisper to you my thanks,

Let me knock on your door,

Make you speak the silent chorus,

Watchful timbers pointed green,

Given to my eyes a beautiful forest of green,

Snow falls below your branches,

Gathering to be hidden from the sun,

So you may remain there when the thaw begins,

And rest easy under your gentle friend,

The soil grows dark in your roots,

So deep you tunnel your heart,

You should give your life towards this strength,

Rings given in quick growth but slow as your time grows,

Large ancient alone in a forest of youth,

Seeds spurt up beside you,

Smiling deep you hope to see the others not lost,

One by one you become alone, 

Your valued feet spread into the earth,

The young wait for a time when the saw will come,

But you wait for a time when the love will come,

To let your timbers again feel the wind without dread,

To give rain a chance to purify these old souls,

Rising high you point to the mother that still lives,

A circle envelopes your very being and you radiate it upwards,

Letting the world know your presence,

Let us give our thanks for such trees,

For they are few are far in number,

But yet they still must grow in seclusion,

Among out ornaments and greed,

Let me knock thrice on your chord,

Let me knock thrice on your wood,

Let me give you the hope of an ancient,

To whisper among your blessed sisters,

The name of the pine timber among men,

Let me wake to your towering green presence,

In it holds the years forgotten,

In it holds a small pulse of life that remains undaunted,

Do not pray as the young generation,

For the death that will come and is sure,

But instead think as a seed again,

Only to grow up and out to find the sun,

And I will be there to feel your purpose,

And I will be there to give you a new,

A home in a life full of friends,

Where snow may lie in secret under shade,

Where animal may burrow to find shelter,

And where the earth grows rich and dark in your soil,

Let me be fed as the earth by your purpose to live,

To breath clean air with your respiration,

To take deep the breath that you offer,

Cone seed splendor let this pass and give this to generations everlasting,

And to give a love to the pine forgotten to man’s
purpose.