Lammas
By onemorething
- 3228 reads
We are made of bread
and light, and love that is the song
of a blackbird to the morning,
a bat's wings to the night air.
The moon, a scythe, to reap us,
the sun, a child that sails away -
we weave a religion
full of fatherless sons
and immaculate women
that only gods may touch.
We have always made our own kings,
and tasting hunger, truth has watched,
its crow's eye upon the work
of harvest and plough.
To cut the sheaf, then
the earth, these dark sods, rich
as blood, raised, but a promise
even as they harden - of hope perhaps,
in a seed or the black tips of a hare's ears,
in the secrets of our grandmothers.
Image is from here: https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:28-estate,Taccuino_Sanitatis,_Casanatense_4182..jpg
Also on Twitter: https://tinyurl.com/vmthkxjz
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Comments
Happy Lammas and a wonderful
Happy Lammas and a wonderful summation, of course :)
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I love the line "the sun, a
I love the line "the sun, a child that sails away" it makes me happy and sad, thinking about my own, growing up?
I had to look up what it was. And then felt all Lammasy as the Co Op has run out of lots of things lately so had to do all the baking :0) Thankyou so much for your Magical poem
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no words, you have woven them
no words, you have woven them all into this beauty
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Happy Lammas for yesterday
Happy Lammas for yesterday Rachel. Rich poem a tribute to this day when we can reap the rewards of our labours.
Jenny.
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Beautiful words, a wistful,
Beautiful words, a wistful, poetic journey from seed to produce- the joy of the first bread, baked from the first grains sown- A time to every season.
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This is our Poem of the Month
This is our Poem of the Month - congratulations!
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