Poetry from Claire Sylvan’s book, Turnings

Beltane

Winter was long, dark, still.
Some days I let go,
To sink into stone, and like a stone, wait.

And now, undaunted by any human despair,
This relentless lusty earth has turned,
Surging out green.

A love-cry from deep in her belly rings out
In myriad voices,
Calling, beckoning those tender maiden shoots,
Yearning toward the flaming passion
Of Beltane sun, rising, voluptuous
Through winter's rich damp leavings;
Reaching, finally, through the hardened edges
Of my soul,
Singing me soft and willing once again.

About Claire Sylvan

Born within earshot of the Atlantic, on the rugged westernmost coast of Cornwall, England, Claire has a deep affinity for rocks, water, and sacred places on earth.

Claire has lived, worked, and raised a family in Haliburton County amidst good kind friends for 35 years and 8 years in friendly Almonte. She and her partner, Bev, are known as "the Grannies" to an ever increasing population of wondrous children.