GODDESS

by the breaking dawn light, in flight it doth rise, over thy canopes margin before me, it touches every bud, upon every branch, on this the first morn of spring, the first morn of the maiden. the sun high within the sky, direct overead, by the rule of noon, light now filtered to the forest floor, maiden now the mother, the horned god now born as son, now here he'll play, in summers meadows and dells. the suns setting twilight, now sinking but once more before me, a sad sight is this, the god is dead, the mother she once was, she now morns as the crone, as the first flake of snow, alights upon the frozen ground.