Descending chords sounded the death knell of summer. 
Pipers called chieftains, kings and warriors
from far off fields of wasted war and destruction
to once more gather around bright solstice fires 
to share with lost forgotten lovers and friends.

So beat your pagan drums to the true religions
of earth, of the universe, of all the goddesses
and gods that are our daily companions
as we walk this mortal coil to the new light
we have sought since leaving our mother’s wombs.