As we move towards the dark half of the year, this poem speaks to me......

ORCHIL

I dreamed of Orchil the dim goddess
Who is under the brown earth in a vast cavern
Where she weaves at two looms;
With one hand she weaves life upward through the green grass,
With the other she weaves downward through the mold.

And the sound of the weaving is eternity
And the name of it in the green world is time.
And through all, through all, Orchil weaves the weft
Weaves the weft of eternal beauty,
Eternal beauty, that passeth not
Though its soul is change.

By William Sharp aka Fiona Macleod