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Birds pull me from sleep
with the joy of their morning call.
I unfold into the sunlight,
a seedling every year,
contributing to the smell of green
and the new life of Imbolc.

The sun sweats along with me.
Dogs lie in the shade.
We dance around
the Beltane fire,
breathe the incense of desire,
and chant under the stars.

Leaves are the color of fire
left over from summer.
Crisp air wakens me.
Harvest moon guides me.
The open veil of Samhain
releases me.

I gather friends, sharing warmth
under winter’s quilt.
We welcome bits of evergreen
to remind us that the cold moon
doesn’t last forever.
Yule turns the wheel another notch
and the circle remains unbroken.

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