Time for another turn
of the Wheel Of The Year.
(c) April 10, 1998
Fire crackles
And the warm breezes
Blow, swirling 'round
As the smoke curls
In hottest fury.
He waits,
Skin gleaming,
Eyes glowing,
Like some woodland
Creature,
Silent and strong,
A thing of beauty,
Long limbs loose
And his scent so
...Ray.
He takes his chosen
In sweat-slick passion
As the heat rises,
Flames licking
At their bodies,
Tongues wet
With desire.
Moans and sighs
Fill the air
As the chanters hum
And raise their voices
In the glory of
The Great Rite.
He is slender,
Hard and tasty,
Like fine
Italian wine.
Drink of him
Who praises thy name
And She-Who-Blesseth
The sacred ground
On which thee lay.
Petals blow
And caress bare skin
As the chanters
Cry
To the
Sky.
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