Here is a simple poem about accepting change. As we slide into the dark half of the year, and my feeling my age, this was a good meditation. I feel so blessed to live here in Maine in this beautiful Saco River Valley.
The Apple
Grey Mabon morning
Plants hang low, heavy with raindrops
Leaves bow silently under baptismal sky
Yet, red fruit hangs unrepentant, firm and ripe
Shamelessly displaying its hold of sunlight
The stem calls out, “hold me”
The sepal seductively beckons one to, “touch me”
The skin, urgent with need, commands, “taste me”
Coded with the eternal,
The apple celebrates its undoing
The Animist Druid 