The Reaper

 

Autumn has come in all of its glory;

The evening shadows grow deeper.

Bounty is won, and low sinks the sun

As everything waits for the Reaper.

 

Turkey and pheasant and duck on the wing

Never know when Archer’s arrows will sing.

Deer in the field stand ready to run,

Waiting the sound of the Huntsman’s gun.

 

The sun starts His yearly descent into death

As Earth turns from giver to keeper.

Like a child at the breast, we start into our rest —

And everything waits for the Reaper.

 

Apples stand waiting in bushel and sack

To someday be applesauce, cider and jack.

Wheat turns to flour and barley to beer –

The Green Man has done all His growing this year.

 

Cellars and larders are bursting with bounty —

Nothing on branch, root, or creeper.

Growing is done; the harvest begun —

Now everything waits for the Reaper.

About The Author
Lorelei Greenwood

A writer since her early teen years, Lorelei enjoys sharing her works with her Pagan sisters and brothers. She has three books in varying stages of completion, one of which will be published in 2013 (From Hallow to Harvest: Celebrations for the Wheel of the Year). Lorelei is also a self-proclaimed Muppet, a breather of fire, and a baker of seriously yummy bread.

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