This New Earth

The summer harvest

Has been reaped

To feed our souls.

The last bounty gone

To the dust of leaves,

Clinging to the mother branch

Until the swirling breeze

Seizes them for the ground

To heal the soil, dried

From August drought.

One last fruit,

Grateful for the light,

Ferociously clings here,

Where the kale is anchored

Hardy with a new tree.

My Self, infused

With that last soup, and

Thankful for summer’s

Nurturing days and

Garden of plenty.

This is the time for us

To turn the soil and for

The soul to sleep

With the ashes of life

Embedded in earth

To grow new roots

That take us deeper

To higher self,

Birthing and swaddled

In drifting snow.

Where it’s cold, 

There is deep healing,

It is said.

Energy moves in swirls,

Truth emanating in

Vortexes descending

To inner self and

Soul ascending as a sun,

A brilliance of rainbows

Wound around the Tree of Life

To shine on new gardens

Planted in young ground

Fertile with worms.

We are the Gardeners 

Of This New Earth;

We are the Cycle of Light.