‘Tis the Season

Autumn’s ancient days are freshly here –
The fall of man’s ambition, bringing grace.
Angelic ghosts and costumed babes endear
The infant twinklings ‘neath the moon’s new face.
Delicious dark, your mystery unbound
Brings freedom to the sinner and the witch;
The chalice cup is filled, and bells resound,
For all who come with open hands are rich.
Night’s calm ceremony breaks the mourning fast,
Gives memory place of honor, next to joy:
A simple table set on a bloody past,
The generations kneel to play with toys.
The dreaming time has come – was always here –
The heavens tilt their lids, and she appears.