Maybon Rites


Ting...
Ting, ping...
Ping, ping, pang...
Sitting in the barn,
the metal roof sings,
with the first rain of fall.
Ting...
Ting, ping...
Ping, ping, pang...
Stepping to the door, I inhale
sweet autumn scents, rain cutgrass.
Ting...
Ting, ping...
Ping, ping, pang...
I go back to the preparation,
of my Mabon ritual, this thanksgiving rite,
leaves, acorns, pumpkins & gourds on my alter.
Ting...
Ting, ping...
Ping, ping, pang...
The circle closing tight,
the world disappearing all right,
blessed be, my goddess, this fine night.
*poem edited form original version all rights reserved*

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem