As The Season Ends, Poem by Minnie Gehrig

The wind whistles,
brushes my face with cold caresses,
i stand braced and ready,
my tresses tangled
like some warrior goddess in the grass,
admiring what a beautiful lover he is,

And the children laugh and play in the leaves,
as the sun nods his head,
to make way for the Samhine moon,

the willow weeping,
her frustrated arms striving to catch her lover,
bends and sways,

witches will meet this night,
under the new moon,
to cast the spells of the wilting harvest,
and catch the spells of falling snow,
all unique sharp angles, of various stars,

the beautiful goddesses laid to sleep
in the orange yellows and greens of fallen leaves,
as there season ends,
to make way for the purest white the world will ever know.