Descending chords sound the death knell of summer.

The piper calls the chieftains, kings and warriors

from the far fields of wasted war and destruction

to gather together around bright solstice fires 

together with lost and forgotten lovers and friends.

So beat your pagan drums to the true religion

of the earth, of the universe, of all the gods

and goddesses that are our daily companions

while we walk this mortal coil seeking the awakening

we have sought since leaving our mother’s wombs.