In the month of giant bumbles,
Throw a scarf over thy head
Lest the lavender doth draw them
And in thy hair they make their bed!
Hawks and handsaws, in this season,
Fly together overhead;
Whether north winds blow or southly,
Fall blows in to wake the dead.
Harvest comes and stalks turn brown so
Gather up all that ye can.
Once the snow flies, it’s all over –
Time for New Year’s hopeful plan.
Seasons’ cycle turns again now:
Into winter we’ll soon go.
If we’re lucky, we’ll remember
Flowers bloom beneath the snow.
Save thy seeds, then, so for planting
Ye will have something in the spring,
Keeping evil hands from stealing
Seed and stalk and everything.
Stand our ground and let the bees nest
Where they will and hawks come, too.
Where seagulls fly so far from oceans,
Why can’t handsaws dot the blue?
Just as seasons’ faces vary,
Of madness there are many kinds;
Let’s dig and plant, with drink made merry.
The soil won’t let us lose our minds.
When we at long last are composted,
Sleep together in the ground,
I’ll seek thee and it will be thee by
Morning’s light I will have found.
So come with me and celebrate
This Blood Moon coming in the night –
Hawks and handsaws, bees and seagulls,
Come with us! We’ll all take flight!