Among the things I have perceived as cool and interesting, a leader for a very long time has been Stonehenge and from there the other megalithic monuments of northwestern Europe. So if you put neolithic stone circles together with the Great Goddess and other mythopoetic noodlings, then mix in my discomfort at arriving in rural Jackson County a long time ago, and add a dash of moonlit winter night, you get…
Country people seldom know, who never trace
autumnal colored sundown in the trees,
why sometimes that sudden need to fall on knees
and kiss cold dirt all night in starless grace.
Who recalls in this new land, columbian amerigo,
with no stones standing when once the forest’s clear,
the pyres, drums, flutes and caperings, the fear
and finally that greenshoot dawn, away-we-go?
Only the dead remember—unawakened bony dust
now in their stones—the circles of Her reasons
and the serpents of Her geases. Metals rust
while flesh decays alone, outside the seasons.
Still She stalks the cirrused skies by night
and bathes the tender snow with breathless light.
By the way, I was pleased to discover (thanks, Veronique Viardin) that New Year’s Day marked a blue moon, if you extend the month of December across the year division. Two full moons within thirty days—quite a way to begin the final year of this first decade of the twenty-first century. (Of course, it appears everyone but me thinks the tenth year marks the beginning of a new decade, probably because no one wanted to celebrate the new millennium in 2001—sorry, deceased Arthur C. Clarke.) …And, thank you, Facebook friends or whomever, for adding a sudden spike of fifteen hits yesterday! I guess advertising has its rewards after all.