Autumn born, full moon faced
and naked as a tree,
I grew to love each new Autumn
as if it were born from me;
love every leaf that bowed to earth,
soft as an infant’s tread;
the halo glow of xanthophyll,
carotene bronzed spear heads.
Umber, amber, goldenrod
and rust, so many hues;
a puzzle of fingers, stars and hearts
to keep the winds amused
and ripening apples, like nipples to suckle,
reminding me of Eve,
the first mother and scientist,
for whom, we must not grieve.
We must not weep for Autumn;
must not sob like collared doves.
She’s the mentor who has taught me
about ever verdant love;
the brazen Earth that howls at death;
the velvet Earth’s new antlers, raised;
the veil strewn Earth’s bare bark of truth.
Let the many hued Goddess be praised!
Ishtar, Isis, Astarte and Eve:
the many arms of naked trees
that dance to rain-drum and wind-drone
and bear new wisdom for me.