by Ana L. Palles

In northern lands
It falls while seasons
Allow
In Spring
Taking us out of Winter's sleep
While in Fall
Calling us back
From Summer's frolic
To prepare, to rest
Nature's herald
Mother's teachings
For her Children
Long Winter cold
She gives us symbols
That long ago man knew
But Children often choose
To listen not to Parent's wisdom
Yet the language is still spoken
Along quiet forest paths
In the hopes that what was once forgotten
Was only sleeping

We hear the steady patter of the rain
Its April cadence telling us to make way
For He who comes to beckon the world to green
And to nourish and burst forth

Then once again it calls
We stop to listen
The season's voice a different timbre
A feminine breath
Carried on the wind
Like storytellers of old
With whispered secrets floating on a tendrilled wind
A moment's stolen glance behind
Reveals as trees sigh
Their brilliant colors bold

We turn once more to our tasks
The leaves begin their braided pattern dance
No more the tender sprouts of spring
The firm and buxom harvest yield
Hearty stock
From deep, dark earth
Our hands caress the roots
Dusting the earth
As we fill well stacked baskets
Promising to warm us through the nights ahead

We offer gratitude and joy
And the rain calls to us
Once more to find our places
To smile and remember
The trees delighting in their festive dance
To offer thanks for Mother's wisdom
And Father's nourishment

Slowly the steady pitter-patter of the rain changes
The Children begin to settle in
Finding the softness and comfort
And the noise of Spring and Summer
And that last hurried bustle of Autumn
Are gently patted to sleep
With dusting snow
Until slowly
Quietly
As night approaches
Mother lays a blanket
And the wind whispers
Shshhh
And reminds us that soon
The rain will be back
Tapping us gently
Pulling back the blanket
To awaken once more
And smile our secrets
We turn our faces to meet the tender caress
Sleep washed from our eyes
While the silver drops kiss our lips
In loving union