Leaves have fallen, dark nights are here mischief making is about, but never fear. In times of ages gone, Sahmain it was called. Festive bonfires lit to celebrate the coming voices calling while others are humming.
Hovered around from the other side over the fields and towns they glide. It times of ages gone, Sahmain it was called. Wisps of smoke, glimpses of form or the beginnings of a winter storm.
Then come the morn and all is calm not man or beast has come to harm It times of ages gone, Sahmain it was called. Summer has gone and winter is near a celebration of this time of year.
(by S Carter, Wrexham, Clwyd).
Dawning of Winter
Orange spires dancing toward the sky no need for any moon lit night Costumes worn. Headdresses adorn. Awaiting. A time for the ancestors. Soon the presence will be felt. Gathering around the fire in swarms swaying with agitated anticipation. But once a year. No other time. The dawning of winter. It comes.