Ostara Lore & Poetry

“Sink down, sink down, sink deeper and more deep
Into eternal and primordial sleep.
Sink down, be still, forget and draw apart,
Sink into the inner earth's most secret heart.
Drink of the waters of Persephone,
The secret well beside the sacred tree.
Waters of life and strength and inner light -
Eternal joy drawn from the depths of night.
Then rise, made strong, with life and hope renewed,
Reborn from darkness and from solitude.”

~~ Dion Fortune, The Sea Priestess ~~


The Spring Equinox is called Alban Eiler, or “The Light of the Earth” among the reformed orders of Druidry. It marks the mid-point between the sun’s least and strongest appearance at Midwinter and Midsummer, respectively. Now the sun is welcomed with glad heart, for its lancing rays awaken the seemingly dead earth to new life and signals the ending of the long, cold winter. In this Scots Gaelic chant to welcome the sun, the female gender is retained, for the feminine sun is common to the earliest beliefs of North-West Europe…

Welcome to you, sun of the season’s turning,
In your circuit of the high heavens;
Strong are your steps on the unfurled heights,
Glad Mother are you to the constellations.

You sink down into the ocean of want,
Without defeat and without scathe;
You rise up on the peaceful wave
Like a queen in her maidenhood’s flower.



In the Gaulish calendrical tablet, the Coligny Calendar, the month of March-April was called Cutios, “the time of winds”…

"The air is like a butterfly
With frail blue wings.
The happy earth looks at the sky
And sings."

~~ Joyce Kilmer, Spring ~~

Lo, the earth awakes again
From the winter's bond and pain.
Bring we leaf and flower and spray,
To adorn this happy day.
Once again the word comes true,
All the earth shall be made new.
Now the dark, cold days are o'er,
Spring and gladness are before.
Change, then, mourning into praise,
And, for dirges, anthems raise.
How our spirits soar and sing,
How our hearts leap with the spring!

~~ Source Unknown ~~

In Northern Ireland, the first nine days of April were called “the Borrowed Days” because March is said to borrow nine days from April: “three to fleece the blackbird, three to punish the stone-chat, three days for the gray cow”…

Can You Imagine?

For example, what the trees do
not only in lightening storms
or the watery dark of a summer's night
or under the white nets of winter
but now, and now, and now - whenever
we're not looking. Surely you can't imagine
they don't dance, from the root up, wishing
to travel a little, not cramped so much as wanting
a better view, or more sun, or just as avidly
more shade - surely you can't imagine they just
stand there loving every
minute of it, the birds or the emptiness, the dark rings
of the years slowly and without a sound
thickening, and nothing different unless the wind,
and then only in its own mood, comes
to visit, surely you can't imagine
patience, and happiness, like that.

~~ Mary Oliver ~~
(Long Life)

Ah, not to be cut off,
not through the slightest partition shut out
from the law of the stars.
The inner – what is it?
if not intensified sky,
hurled through with birds
and deep with the winds of homecoming.

~~ Rainer Maria Rilke ~~


On a gray day, when the sun
has been abducted, and it’s chill
end-of-the-world weather,
I must be the sun.
I must be the one
to encourage the young
sidetracked physicist
working his father’s cash register
to come up with a law of nature
that says brain waves can change
the dismal sky. I must be the one
to remind the ginger plant
not to rest on the reputation
of its pungent roots, but to unveil
those buttery tendrils from the other world.
When the sky is an iron lid
I must be the one to simmer
in the piquant juices of possibility,
though the ingredients are unknown
and the day begins with a yawn.
I must issue forth a warmth
without discrimination, and any guarantee
it will come back to me.
On a dark day I must be willing
to keep my disposition light,
I have to be at the very least
on stray intact ray
of local energy, one small
but critical fraction
of illumination. Even on a day
that doesn’t look gray
but still lacks comfort or sense,
I have to be the sun,
I have to shine as if
sorry life itself depended on it.
I have to make all the difference.

~~ Thomas Centolella ~~
(Views from along the Middle Way)

Wild Geese

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

~~ Mary Oliver ~~


Go inside a stone
That would be my way.
Let somebody else become a dove
Or gnash with a tiger’s tooth.
I am happy to be a stone.

From the outside the stone is a riddle:
No one knows how to answer it.
Yet within, it must be cool and quiet
Even though a cow steps on it full weight,
Even though a child throws it in a river;
The stone sinks, slow, unperturbed
To the river bottom
Where the fishes come to knock on it
And listen.

I have seen sparks fly out
When two stones are rubbed,
So perhaps it is not dark inside after all;
Perhaps there is a moon shining
From somewhere, as though behind a hill—
Just enough light to make out
The strange writings, the star-charts
On the inner walls.

~~ Charles Simic ~~
(The Voice at 3 A.M.)

"The afternoon is bright,
with spring in the air,
a mild March afternoon,
with the breath of April stirring,
I am alone in the quiet patio
looking for some old untried illusion -
some shadow on the whiteness of the wall
some memory asleep
on the stone rim of the fountain,
perhaps in the air
the light swish of some trailing gown."

~~ Antonio Machado, 1875-1939
Selected Poems, # 3, Translated by Alan S. Trueblood

Spring is nature's way of saying, "Let's party!"

~~ Robin Williams ~~

"Springtime is the land awakening.
The March winds are the morning yawn."

~~ Lewis Grizzard, Kathy Sue Loudermilk, I Love You ~~

"A little madness in the Spring
Is wholesome even for the King."

~~ Emily Dickenson, # 103 ~~

The first day of spring is one thing, and the first spring day is another.
The difference between them is sometimes as great as a month.

~~ Henry Van Dyke (1852–1933)
Fisherman's Luck (1899) ~~

What was once sound asleep, now gently starts to wake.
Fresh air tastes sweet in every breath I take.

Little feathered creatures are doing their best
in fastening a delicate home of a nest.

Warmth is felt in the soft flowing breeze.
Buds burst open in flowers and trees.

Sun rays dance at the break of dawn,
and gently touch the ear of a fawn.

Countless blessings this season will bring
as my soul delights in the essence of Spring.

~~ Julie Pisacane ~~

Spring is an erection
a sweet tingling in the groin
of a world awakening in heat
It is goosebumps
on the skin of a mountain
nipples rising firmly in the
embrace of a warm breeze
Spring is anticipation
beauteous need
undressed and waiting
Freudian fantasies borne to fruition
in the soft black earth
It is mud stained clothing
and lustful promises
muttered in distress
sensuous touch and blossoming desire
merging in the coitus of survival
It is pollen, roe and spermatozoa
in joyful aphrodisiac
Spring is muffled moans on porches
and underwear discarded in haste
deer scrapes and blanket burns
migrations and spawnings
in carnal festival
It is lust and instinct
in contented lethargy
Spring is love.

~~ Source Unknown ~~

Spring Fertility Chant

Mother and father of all growing things
Unto my being your golden love bring
Bless this seed to fulfill its design
Of leaf and fruit, of blossom and vine

~~ Jennifer Reif ~~