Nu sculon herigean II

What say you, oh kindred mine,
of this high-noon sun,
this zenith line
linking top and bottom
as its axis tips and spins,
the cheek's heat, the heart, the burn,
the blaze of green, the bursting
blood and bloom and loam, 
all earth's fruitfulness
singing and pouring into our coffers
its overflowing good 
of vegetal gold, mineral wealth,
the earth's mine yields its ore
of gladness, ringing sweetness
all the bright things in our arms,
the summer store behind barn doors
put by to salve our flinching fear 
at the year's cold wane? 

I say, oh kindred mine,
that this high noon sun is glad and strong
this zenith line a sturdy one
this top to bottom stave
solid as it moves
and we stand firm for all is one -
hot skin, heart's burn, the branding joy 
green-blazing hedges, trees, grass
grows and curls too fast, too fast,
and blooms burst with coloured blood,
sap seethes and wheat is rich and ripe
the wind-blown fields surge with gold
and the singing and the pouring of all sustaining things
fill our barns, our coffers' hearts
until they make us rich and blest
past wealth and happiness -

Gaia's gold, her mineral lode and vegetal life 
she spills into our hands
a living stream, life's waterfall 
sparkling, rich and fresh,
a high strong pour all at the full
the glad day is full
our arms can hold no more,
our summer stored against the cold's foraging,
our hearts' suns sound, our memory
the motherlode 
of another season -
the bursting of the year's fruition
sunbeams like a benison
there are no shadows here 
at this noon of the year.

We kindred say this one day here 
at the height, the nadir
when heaven opens, pours gold down -
how blessed we are,
how much we love,
the spinning cycles 
turning in beginning, middle, end, 
for the Wheel is sound,
the rise and fall our season's due
for each in turn, acceptance of the wax, the wane
and wonder at the bounty given free -

this is our human bargain each to each
and with the earth that gives us life -
we praise the sun, the rain, the turn
and from this high mid-point 
of hub and pivot
we strain all sight and reach all hands
to turn the spokes and teach our time
respect and gratitude
the highest noon of sun demands.
Nu Sculon Herigean
Return to Collections all
next poem