I covet a life in which I can open my heart and listen. Listen without worries of inconvenience and fear of what could happen in the bleak winter to come. I want to touch the seasons and be loved by them and love in return. I want to explore the colorful woods, listen to the chatter of busy squirrels, long to touch the velvet horns of deer, feel the crisp spark of the first frost and be mesmerized by falling snow. I want these things for my peace of mind and for my weary soul.
Right now there is a Chickadee on my windowsill. Looking at me with expectant eyes. He will be here for the seasons to come, without fail, visiting the feeder for breakfast and greeting the day, however short and cold, with the chatter of a happy little bird. I want to capture his tiny spirit and borrow his mirth.
Octavia bless me with willingness as I stand in the threshold of your doorway. Wrap me in the colors of your love and the cool, crisp breath of your soul. Teach me to let go of the rope that binds me to the shore, take my foot from the shallow water of the season and instead, jump. Jump into the swirling red and gold shimmering around me, breath in your promise of darkness, secrets and renewal. And rest. Always rest, of which there never seems to be enough.
Make me unafraid of the winter that approaches, warm me by the fire of the Solstice bright and take me through the bleakness on the road to Imbolc. Keep me in spirit and pull me up when I fall, as I will surely fail as many times as I succeed. Give me hope and remind me that the wheel turns, always.