When lady moon shines silver light,
a beacon in fall’s black ink night,
I see her through the window pane.
She weaves her plait of gleaming white
with nimble fingers, brown and veined;
an act profound yet so mundane.
Rapunzel, beloved priestess crone,
prepares to practice arts arcane.
Fresh-flowered steps barefoot to throne,
raises a staff of scrimshawed bone
and nods with grace, our Druid Queen.
With souls of trees, her voice intones,
“From root to seed, from seed to tree,
let light prevail and darkness flee
from winds of heaven as we breathe.
Resist the dark, protect the weak.”