Alban Eiler

In the beautiful land of spring

When precious flowers bloom

Snow melting from the trees

And the warm sun appears

Fresh is the earth cleansed in rain

Bursting with new life

Each moment summons renewal

Alban Eiler stands still

Under the moons pale face

Rabbits leap and dance

Gathering the eggs of spring

Birds begin the song of nest

And love grows like the sun

As days become equal with night

Balancing the cycles of life

Tender beauty unfolds

With flower-petals beginning to grow

Planting seeds of the future

For fruit that is blessed

The Lady welcomes us from winter

Thawing us from the chill winds

Washing with clean rains

Sweeping the old away

To fresh new fields

Alban Eiler - toast to warmer days.

Spring In The Marsh

A blue vein
In my water
Stark like a branch
Against white clouds
Salt and water
Smoke and air
Candle light
Burning bright

A raven caws
From my window
Outside the sun shines
And birds fly
In the marshy ground
Dancing and calling
On wood and air
Moon and sun
Circling dance

A crane calls
Trilling horn hidden there
Long necks stretching
The Goddess sings spring
And leaps in the form
Of handmaidens nature made
The queens of the countryside
Upon the grasses and water
Fly fly fly
In the spiral landing
Sky meets ground

A blackbird cackles
Upon the rushes and reed
The spring air calls
Upon the wings of thee
And we have come
To the cat-tailed marsh
Clicking and hiding
Laugh laughing laughing
With the spring air
Brushing among grasses
And trees budding rebirth
Laughing between the veil
Of rushes and reeds

White tailed deer springs
Doe bounding away
With the bounty of her Lord
And the Kings watch
In the dance of their trine
Spring has come
To the face of the hind
The seeds have blossomed
And love blooms
With the goddess dancing
With Lord and Lady in time
Prints made in the mud
Sweet tender grasses new
Budding trees filling
The deer's on the tree-line
Hidden between the veil
Of field and trees
Bushes and reeds
Emerging from the shadow-light
Beckoning us to share
The spring air

Water dances in the eddies
The moon reflected there
Swirling the patterns
Of life hands dances
Spirals made in my ears
Sweet harmony blessing
The echoes of nature there
My sweet marsh
Home for new growth
Dancing in the spring veils
The birds abounding
Restored property
Of the goddess's hands
Made of land water and sky
Sing sweet chorus I hear thee.

Autumn Laird

Spring In the Air

This year I thought I would make a little change, and offer you a little bit of what the past springs have given to Autumn Magick.  Not only that, but remind myself of the process of growth and renewal as it is ever changing, and the inspirations held by the equinox time hold special and beautiful meaning to all of us.  We await the bounty of all the things of spring- animals, birds, insects, rain... but only by measuring the gifts of the past can we truly find the way to the rainbows that await us in the future.  And simply enjoy them, letting ourselves be cleansed in the process of new hope and new ventures the Goddess brings to life.

Autumn Magick is celebrating it's 3rd year on Yahoo come March 20th (2000).  There have been a lot of comings and goings, but my creative instinct has sustained these transition periods.  All posts here can be found on the message boards, sampling the moments of spring in the air.  

Seeds of Passing
By Autumn J. Laird

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.

When The Frogs Come
By Autumn J. Laird

I don't know when they began to sing,
Gently my ears heard the night chorus,
And the frogs awakened a promise,
In me I knew there was warmer days to come,
When first I listened to their melody,
In the shallow pools of marsh grasses,
The spring peepers chime their new lives,
Into being with a quiet crescendo,
Healing our winter skin with song,
When the frogs come I can stop,
And be amazed at their numbers,
All in time with one another,
As the night falls and we are sung their lullabee,
With the waters of fresh rains and warm breezes,
The flowers beginning to bloom,
And the frogs merry leaping,
Speaks to me of healing and youth,
Laughter in the countryside,
That life ever lives on in their healing song,
Though I don't know when they began to sing,
My dreams are richer with their voices,
Urging me to look outside my window,
And become one within the varied singers,
Knowing that each has a place and belongs,
In the delicate balance made of songs.

Robins Return
By Autumn J. Laird

Something spoke to me, with the orange light dimming in a glow beyond
the horizon, to walk and see what I was missing, I picked up my coat
and camera, slipped into my shoes, and just went out the door. The
scene took my worries away everything but the colors vanished, the
first sounds of spring emerging in my small community, robin
cheerios awoken that sense of well being, as I realized that the
migrations had begun to return after the winter, and in the distance
the call of the cranes in the marshes, and the redwing blackbirds
dancing among the cotton cattails. How could I resist the color of
the sunset on ice, the distant oak trees reaching up through the
vibrant reddening sky, and the silent peace among the new sounds that
called my heart to its face, and my eyes shimmered with gladness for
I had listened to the call, outside of these walls and just walked
for the peace it brought me. The night came and stars appeared
slowly with the brightness that told me the clear night could be
cold, but with the coming new moon the stars would dance and sing as
they could in their beauty of beginning times, time seems to stop and
yet wheel at its ever steady pace and it is a release of my house,
the walls that shelter and yet the whole earth is my home, and
walking outside just helped me breath deeper and think about how much
beauty comes in the stillness of the mind when all there is happens
to be the color of the coming night among the calls of hooting owls
and downing birds for the time being, until another day opens its
eyes and introduces us to the new sounds painted upon the sky and
land with the return of the robins.

Awake One Morning
By Autumn J. Laird

I awoke early this morning. No particular reason, no specific sense
of the predawn light. The clouds are overcast and the dawn streaked
over the gray that broke in the blanket lining slowly with its
brightness rising from the hills. I found myself at loss for words in
the early silence. As my mind was awake with a memory all its own
and I searched my depths to find the cause for wakefulness. I
realize today is a 6 month anniversary of waking. On that terrible
day I had a fitful dream to which I still light my candles for. And
I found myself unable to move from the ice that sliced through the
winter soul. And on awakening today I listened to the dawn
breaking. The birds coming to feed outside my window and the cranes
returning to the marsh. Soon the shadows will streak across Spirit
Lake and the spring will return. All the birds with the thaw and the
gentle winds that begin to blow warm with thunderstorms and rain.
The animals waking from their long winter slumber and begin to seek
again their mates. The hawks dancing high above on cliff ridges
tumbling and wheeling their song of love and the eternal hope born of
that fall. I miss being warm with the walks up those hills. The
sense of my place among the dream more than mere infrequent
laughter. More than that the cold thawing spoke of the healing that
had to begin to make me see, that at any time I am vulnerable to the
season within. And I am awake with no particular reason for the
day. No place I have to be seen. But I am awake and I try to re-
enter into my dream for the place where my footholds land in reality
and loving embrace of the mountainside. I hear the call of Spring
entering my cold winter heart, and hope that upon the lake I can swim
with all the knowledge I have gained within. On my rebirth be the
fish that swims deep in the shadows and between the sun, suspended in
the element of love.

Persephone's Way
By Autumn J. Laird

Come now my tears to cry to the mother of all
things, Of lonely heart I can no longer be carried but must
carry myself, Walk through the shadows in silence
not so much as a passing word, Why should I ask
anything in return when the gruff pace slows my day to a
grind? One moment quelled by my sob and lifted by the
burning ache and pounding heart, welling with
emotion, sadness so deep but refreshing, I ask so many
questions, But it is time for silence and to listen to the gifts
that had already been bestowed. It is so hard to
hang on to them, and keep them close when the darkness
settles and the sun fades. Where I no longer walk but
tread a thin line of memory where I can now find only
more darkness in a place so filled with light. This
is Persephone's way, to turn toward the dark and
all the things of the night, when mother grieves
to her daughter with a deep keen as she passes to
the night. Sweet Demeter gather your harvest with
joy for the shortening hours and cold soon will set
in, The months of deep unrest as you settle in and wait
for day, When the flowers will bloom come again
in the spring pass the lament that fall will
bring. Of drifting leaves, set ablaze with your final tears
of departure, you know this must be Persephone's
way. Poseidon call your daughter and let your waves lap the
burning heart, cool her thoughts of the dark and send
the sweet dolphins of play to escort her on her way,
fresh bouquet in hand she rides the flaming chariot
that Hades' dark horses sweep, Duty and calling in
the deep, the throne awaits with the touch of
pomegranate, where the three seeds changed your history, and you
reborn like the phoenix each spring to your mother's
arms.  Yes sweet Demeter wait for your daughter she
has grown, crop your wheat and grow your
corn, harvest the gifts that you hath born. Strike no more
fury and lament no more for this is Persephone's Way.

Turtle Goddess
By Autumn J. Laird

I crawl back to meet her feet, spring
overflowing with the sacred waters bounty plentiful, I
am the turtle swimming in her pools, stag comes to
drink and I come and kiss his nose, I make my way to
the base of the monolith feeling the life pour from
the mountain, green algae and lily float atop the
glassy mirrors of the pool, trickling waters and faint
breeze stir the waters gently with small ripples, I
look up through the wavy waters below and see the her
smiling down at me, large lobed ears and eyes of dark
magnetic draw, she reaches out to her children and we live
in her silence, gathering the flowers to our patron
of the spring fountain.