Last Days of The Summer King

Last Days of the Summer King

 

The sun of his youth has faded

As he sits in silent contemplation

Skin wove with scars and tales

With the soft polish of weathered wood

 

Frost tumbles through his beard

Grown long beneath considered gaze

Eyes aglow as memories march

In quiet pageant of contemplation

 

Antlers worn white, rest upon his head

Rich entwined with cold kissed vines

A fading splendor that adorns his brow

Caressed with words of countless lives

 

The sounds of glee and laughter fade

As the skirl of music lies about him

And life around him dancing

In a furious array

 

His hands recall the memory of

The bright spring Maiden fair

His nose the scents that linger

Of the fiery Mother’s hair

 

And through the seasons turnings

As the year flew fast away

He smiles of his love the Crone

As they whiled away their days

 

From the rebirth in the Winter’s night

The laughter of Spring’s warming light

Through the fiery dance of Summer’s height

Unto the harvest of Autumn’s flight

 

He smiled as he recalled the days.

 

Snow settles soft about him

Tossed on the Winter’s wind

Grayness courts and calls him

As he turns his thoughts within

 

In shadowed time the way grows bright

He sees Her there within

Into her arms he gladly steps

While this tale begins again

 

The revelers turn towards him

With wry merriments chagrin

The words of blessing falter

As they wonder where he went . . .

 

Banfiadh2017

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