My Late November Wind

My Late November Wind

I heard you rushing through the dried leaves on the tallest trees on the ridge

Long before I felt you caress my face and run your icy tapered fingers through my hair.

Then away you went to rattle the limbs on the maple

And the gutters on the house

Before you continued your prancing through the woods.

Your song is of irregular beat and volume

   As you dance into the night,

Painting a picture of frost and chills,

   Of darkening days and snow-filled nights.

Of a time when life stands still.

You tell of cozy fires and

   Of stories shared by loved ones,

Drawing us near for warmth.

But your breath tingles my skin and excites my blood.

I want to waltz with you through the swaying trees on the ridge,

To frolic and romp,

To paint everything lacy white,

To smile with delight at you,

My late November wind.

ã22 November 1993,  Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw. All rights reserved.

My Nature & Descriptions of the Mountain Quotes

My Nature & Descriptions of the Mountain Quotes

04/10/10Darker dreams, chilly air, a nip upon the breezes; the crow caws, the night owl flies, the cat does as she pleases; the garden's done, the trees grow bare before the winter freezes. ~ Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw

27/09/10        
The butterfly landed on the conquering wildflower blooming and perfuming the wasteland of despair. ~ Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw

26/09/10
The sumac red, the goldenrod, the fiery sunsets mellow a time of work to bring harvests in before that frosty fellow paints all the grasses and the leaves with white, lacy frozen touch. ~ Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw

24/09/10
Full moon as the autumn kisses with frost promised nips brings harvest vigor to love, to life, and to our moonlight dances together... the pleasures of fire and ice to explore. ~ Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw

21/09/10
The misty fog among the trees, the eerie silent calling of mystery chilling in silent embrace, the darkest light whose slightest touch thrilling, does weaken knees. ~ Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw

27/11/10The icy wind is howling through the dark woods which are covered in a lacy whiteness. ~ Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw

07/12/10The mountain is covered in blankets of white. A cold brisk air freezes all. The animals are all fluffy in their winter wear. Silence fills the mountain. ~ Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw

20/01/11The full moon smiles as she dances on the beaming loving streaming through hearts calling her down to play among us for a while. Then back to the sky we fly with her to dance among the stars. With love to you all. ~ Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw

31/01/11It is not so much I am shy really, just a very quiet fae type woman. I am playful but hidden in plain sight like the wolves dancing on the forested hill, curious but cautious. Watch if you must, but get too close & watch me vanish for a while. Listen for the rustling of leaves or the singing to the moon. I'll be watching, too. ~ Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw

01/02/11The ewes softly lowing for babies' milk to bring as the old woman gathers firewood & tests the shadows for signs of spring. The young woman lights the candle for the winter nights still are near as she cooks & says her blessings upon those she holds most dear. ~ Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw

02/02/11The ice storm dances down upon the mountain, turning everything into the dangerous beauty of frozen live crystal jewelry. ~ Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw

02/02/11Blow blizzard winds, sail our house through the skies. ~ Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw

06/02/11Steamy, frozen, moist, or flows, yielding pathway as it goes ever lower to higher call, giving life or mountains fall, unfathomed depths or drop by drop, soothing or the world to stop; salty, sweet, stale or sour, the humblest with such great power. Water. ~ Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw

13/02/11The icy wind pierces me as it sculpts the starlit icy snow, dancing in my veins, reminding me of treasures only found in the frozen, dark places. Swirling, dancing with the howling winter wind, I laugh. Crystal joy in the air, visible. The wind loves me, calls my name. We dance. ~ Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw

09/03/11More lacy whiteness, cold breeze dances
the ice crystals lazily as the breath hangs frozen in mid-air to the crunching sound of footsteps. ~ Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw

27/03/11I have always liked to garden, indoors and out. My very favorite plants are the heirlooms. The thrill of taking care of plants that my ancestors or even your ancestors would have once loved is a joy I wish all could know. ~ Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw

31/03/11Fiery fiery shooting star, may I fly as you are, soaring thru the nightsky brings a twinkly to my eye. ~ Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw

13/04/11
In the quiet dark, the stillness, the silence watches, listens to the yearning of my heart breaking. The untamed wild heart, tired of cages, outgrows confinement. Stretch to crack the shell. A deep roar rumbles. Eyes flash. False craving for safety when only den to roam from is needed. Prowling. Pacing. Restless, growing heart. ~ Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw

27/04/11Her eyes looked at me soulfully, trustingly. She knew I hurt, wanted to help. She was a bundle of shaking, wagging, whimpering love ready to comfort me, to make me feel better, less afraid, less unloved. All she wanted was to love & be loved. Such a beautiful dog to be my friend, my sometimes nursemaid. ~ Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw

27/04/11
Looking out at the foggy morning, feeling the moist but still cool air, hearing the silence waiting to open into songs of growing life, I smile. Springtime on the mountain is life unfolding into new joys. ~ Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw

28/04/11Lifting my heart to the morning sky, my spirit flies on the cool air while flitting from new leaf to new flower, birdsong filling my ears with new delights, new wonders, new curiosities, as if I, too, were just newly born. Perhaps I am each new day. Alive. Come. Fly with me. ~Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw

07/05/11Dark, cold, crisp night silently crooning life into new spring growth as the stars watch from afar. A chill. An expectation. A knowing. Life grows on the mountain. ~ Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw

07/05/11
When I am most upset & emotional, I need nature. My heart must see and listen to the deep places within the wind, the water, the trees... & know it is not alone. All is still. ~ Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw

08/05/11
Listening to the birds sing this chilly, cloudy, peaceful day on the mountain. More green leaves here & there. Even the Mayapples begin to show their loveliness on the forest floor. ~ Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw

13/05/11The foggy dew rests on the quickly greening mountain as birds chirp, cats prowl, & little furry creatures scurry here & there. ~ Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw

14/05/11Leafing out, the trees have brighter silohuettes against the cool foggy mountain morning as the squirrels run branch to branch & the birds dart over & under them. ~ Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw

15/05/11The cat sleeps in the window enjoying the cool overcast day while I type, think, sip lemonade, & sometimes smile out the window at the beautiful, greening trees backset against the white sky of clouds. ~ Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw

18/05/11
Blues, purples, grays, with white puffs of clouds, the sun shines brightly on light green, new leaves on the tallest trees highlighted against the storm sky. ~ Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw

23/05/11Strong thunder roars, shaking the house, huge lightning strikes against the black sky, & the wind & rain dance freely while the cat & I watch the show here by the window overlooking the mountain. ~ Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw

27/05/11After a very heavy downpour, thunder, a bit of hail, & an upset cat who had to leave the window or get wet, the sun is shining very brightly while the drips from the roof continue falling & the cat basks in the sunshiny window again. All is well on the mountain. ~ Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw

© 2010, 2011, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

Maple Syrup

Maple Syrup

A dappled touch beneath the maples,

The flickering light caress brings

Sweet coursing through the erect trunk

As the beaming touches up and down

The standing member…

The glorious fulfillment with

Sigh of pleasure

Come.

The hardness only shelters

The soft, sugary liquid love within…

Opening…then insert…

Open more…

It pours out in spurts into the

Rounder catcher of nature’s love juice.

Then drips.

Light and heat boiling down to

Essential syrupy goodness.

ã1 September 1999, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

Corvid the Crow

Corvid the Crow

The winged bandit of sparkly things

Flies o’er the field of corn,

And he is a wise and ancient bird

Of heart’s desires borne.

Blackest feathers, orange-yellow beak,

He caws to give a warning,

Ever vigilant a guardian he,

Preferring gaiety to mourning.

Psychopomp and watcher he

And executor of law,

Teacher of the ways of life

Sometimes with humor raw.

A creative bird but not held down,

The crow can be relied on;

His mischief and his swarthy ways

Often get him lied on.

Ah, crow, crow, delightful bird

A family bird is here,

Crow will never fly quite straight…

But that’s what makes him dear.

ã2 June 1999, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

Tuscan Red

Tuscan Red

Vined ripeness, Tuscan red

Dripping, oozing into the clay

Fired to an inebriated blush

Of hunger, thirst, desire

For one perfect grape.

ã14 April 1998, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

The Dog Sentry

The Dog Sentry

Attentively scouring the horizon of the yard

And the immediate vicinity,

She stands her watch,

Guarding her fort and troops

From rabbits, groundhogs, birds,

And especially cats…

Seeing an encroachment,

She silently stalks the intruder

Until she is in position…

Then pounce and chase,

Faster and faster,

Until the field is cleared once again.

Satisfied, she returns to her post

On the porch.

ã23 April 1998, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

Dandelion Yellow

Dandelion Yellow

A sunny-faced yellow smiling with

Basking, buttery, brilliance,

Dandelion’s daring defiance

Of human efforts to

Devastate

A generous herb.

ã14 April 1998, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

A Late Autumn Afternoon

A Late Autumn Afternoon

Grayish-blue edge with lighter gray,

Whiffs of white,

Shadowed by purples and black,

The snow clouds pile on one another.

The bare, black barked trees silhouetted against the sky

Sway forming intricate, delicate designs in the air.

The brown fallen leaves no longer rustle or dance on the breeze.

All seems peaceful, so quiet,

As if this were the season to be silent.

ã22 November 1993, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

A Late November Night

A Late November Night

A clear, sky on a cold late November night is breath taking.

The panorama of stars and moon are splendrous.

The stillness and the bone-chilling coldness

Seem to frame the sacred…

What great mysteries to behold, to cherish.

ã22 November 1993, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

Dawn

Dawn

The lightening rosy-orange against the bluish-purple eastern sky

 

Heralds the sun’s arising again today.

The birds sing to welcome the dawn

As the children of the night quiet down for sleep.

The morning star beckons expectantly just above the horizon

As all the stars except ours disappear from sight.

Then there he is, rolling up into position

For his westwardly daily trip.

Morning with its crisp, clean air,

Fresh and new…

The beauty of life given for one more day.

ã22 November 1993, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

Descent to Hel

Descent to Hel

The oven of Hel’s kitchen,
Where the staff of life is baked
In her regeneratively consuming flame,
Beckons me to enter and to taste her twisted loaf.

Never overdone nor under—
This bread of perfecting is
So delectable that merely one bite
Emblazons the eyes,
Enraptures the countenance, and
Elucidates my Self!

Such bliss to be enfolded in Hel’s warm embrace,
To be engulfed in the Maternal abundance
And to drink from her breast
The spark of life
That will one day intensely burn
As the creative fire,
Born and reborn
Of Woman.
(C) 14 October 1994, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

Call Worlds Open Tonight

Call Worlds Open Tonight

The crows caw, the raven fly, the cat is on the prowl;
The wolves are dancing in the woods, just listen to them howl.
While the owl will fly his nightly round
On wings that have no sound.

There is magic in the making;
There is magic all around;
There is magic for the taking;
There is magic to be found.

The cornstalk’s dry; the pumpkin’s big; the crops are in for winter;
The haloed moon smiles down upon all those who would enter.
Into sacred rites for Samhain night;
And honorings for Samhain day;
Honor all for that is right;
Blessings on all who stay.

The sacred veil between the worlds opens for all who would enter.
The ancestors come to bestow their love from the circle’s very center.

There is magic in the making;
There is magic all around;
There is magic for the taking;
There is magic to be found.
(C) 9 November 1998, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

Summer Solstice Blessings

Summer Solstice Blessings

The rays of sun, the light of power,
Nature’s fecund and fruitful hour,
Longest day, shortest night…
Come, let’s celebrate the light.

Expectant harvests yet to come,
Let us taste the fruits of some
Of earth’s bountiful and lustful play
Of planted seeds come to stay…

At the summit of sun’s strength
Begins the lessening of sun’s length…
As days grow shorter, nights grow long;
Together we sing the solstice song…

Shine on, our sun, shine strong and true,
Let us totally delight in you,
And let us humbly accept your beams
As now you turn to darker dreams.

Let love and life, day and night,
Find the joyous union right
As the balanced circle turns…
And as our star, our sun still burns.
(C) 21 June 1999, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

With Grandmother's Love

With Grandmother's Love

Dancing in the water,
A feather in my hand,
Smiling, often laughing,
Blessing Grandmother's land.

With a glint of diamonded cheeks
Salty waters clear,
I see Mother Earth’s teardrops
Falling for upon all near and dear.

Know of this truth, yon pray-er,
Your heart of prayer was heard,
Spirit would not leave you
Without giving you this word---

With all your being, your heart, your mind,
With your soul, your spirit, below, above,
You offered forever in truth...
Where’er you walk, you have my love.

From the east, I offer you wisdom,
From the south, I offer you play,
From the west, I offer you protection,
From the north…Grandmother's Way.
(C) Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw, 14 August 2000. All rights reserved.

Universal Intercourse

Universal Intercourse

Sexual attraction/repulsion, the ebb/flow of tides…
The lunatic moon projects a moan
To pull and release our juices so
Each cell is not alone.

Each molecule, each atom copulates
In patterns of brilliant lust
Of conjugal bliss and explosiveness,
Of ejaculatory must.

In and out and back and forth,
Around and around we go,
The whole universe it seems,
Is in the biblical know.

Is he positive?or is she negative?
Is it dirty? No, it’s fun!!!
This bio-chemical-neuro-electrical magnet
Of energetic pun.
(C) 4 November 1998, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

My Lover’s Face

My Lover’s Face

Your smile hides the mischief-making Puck
Promising Dionysian revelry,
Dancing beneath the canopy of sheltering trees…
Your eyes beckon Daphne’s nymphs
To sing and drum their ecstasy
Of Bacchanalian rites.
(C) 4 November 1998, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

Grandfather Tree

Grandfather Tree

Grandfather tree, you stand proudly
On the railroad track hill
At the bottom of the yard…
So very tall and straight,
Bereft of most branches and leaves.
A few vines and a few ferns grow on you…
The squirrels and the birds race
By you on the way
To the more cover of your grandchildren…
Regally you watch,
Prayerfully blessing us
Who watch
Under your protective presence.
(C) 4 May 1999, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw.

My Beltane Invocation

My Beltane Invocation

Under the full Beltane moon,
With the inner fire burning brightly
In the mid-spring night,
Will I take you beneath the stars to dance among the trees
And to sing with deep throaty moans and laughs
As heartbeat to heartbeat,
The ancient fertility rhythms compel us
To keep the sacred tryst that feeds Earth
And honors all our relations in the web of life,
Giving sexual energy as fertile life blood,
Commending awakening and growth,
Urging the ripening of love,
Expressed in the joyful embrace.

Come, follow me, my love,
To the hills, to the forests, to the newly plowed field, the river;
Come, my love, to the meadow, to the creek, the ocean,
And let us pay homage to the bringing together
And to the bringing apart,
For all ways are valid in the expression of love
On this night of lusty, frothy sacred weaving
Love as ribbons around your pole.
Come.
(C) 4 November 1998, Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw