POEM: Hymns for the Forest God #10

At the dark of the moon 

the Forest God sleeps alone; rises 

in the darkest part of the night, when 

the sun and the moon lie together 

somewhere under the earth;

stands alone, in the dark, 

in the silence, one hand 

on his cock, one hand 

over his heart; rouses 

himself, draws himself onward, 

comes to climax, spills 

his seed onto the waiting 

earth, in the silence, 

in the dark, while the moon 

and the sun lie together 

somewhere under the earth.

POEM: Hymns to the Forest God #9

The Forest God holds up his hands 

beneath the full moon and lets the light 

pour through his hands like water. 

It blesses the earth. He knew the moon 

as lover once, when she was a goddess, 

and another time before that, when 

the moon was still a god. They are still 

friends. The white light pouring like 

water, the thin dark blood of eclipse, 

he knows and loves them both. 

In the deepest part of the night, 

when the full moon is highest, 

he sings a quiet song to remind the moon 

that whether they are a goddess or a god, 

or both, or neither, they are still welcome 

in his bed, still cherished in his heart.

POEM: Hymns to the Forest God #7

The Forest God in summer 

is the lord of the sun, the darling 

of the moon. He is light and joy, 

swiftness and daring, fullness 

and rest. Decked with garlands 

of leaves and flowers he dances 

with the tree nymphs, couples with 

oak and willow and thorn. Then 

he makes music, the pipe, 

the harp, the flute, guitar.

His voice rings out, louder 

than a man’s, sweeter than 

a deer’s, wise as only a god’s 

can be. Under the full moon 

he joins the rings of dancing 

witches and leaves his seed 

in those who desire it, plants 

the secrets of the forest. 

They will bear his children

And nurture the ancient wisdoms

that only he remembers, that 

he will never let die away.