Return

The continued cycle of our short lives,
our souls in death, reborn. The
wheel keeps turning. Bells chime
with merry sounds, small flames
flicker, giving of the scents of
bayberry, ginger, cedar. The sun
has retuned, the moon persists in
her everlasting cycle. Feast, enjoy
the company of family and friends.
Colored lights line the altar we
gather around, exchanging little
gifts, drinking warm chamomile
tea. Laughing as we make poinsettias
out of tissue paper, our unique
way of showing welcome. We
rejoice in the rebirth of the sun
and look forward to his growth.