Seasons
Branches reaching to heavenly spheres, roots stretching deep into the earth, Hazel, the tree of life, weaving and binding us to the world, seen and unseen. White clouds with steel grey linings approach in battle. Thunder and lightning are summoned to illuminate the heavenly sky, bruised purple blue battle clouds, loom expectantly over the earth below, waiting, for him to arise from Annwn, the world below the roots. Earth is now a thunderous roar, electrically charged and waiting. Hazel's leaves rustle, her trunk groans. Bark cracks as inhaling and exhaling, Hazel allows a being from Annwn to emerge. Once aligned with the bark, Cerunnos steps forth., feeling the lush damp grass under his feet and metallic smell of thunder, grass and bark in his nose, sensing the air around through majestic antlers on his head. Cerunoss sits down, legs crossed. Wating patiently for Olwen to arrive. No malice resides in his soul only justice. Life, death, regeneration are his intentions, maintaining the balance of life
Olwen visited the wooded valley most days, gathering food from the hedgerows, trees and grassy floor. Sitting beneath the Hazel, listening to the wind, woosh the grass, sway branches of even the largest oak. Often, staying until dusk watch jackdaws clatter and caw, drawing feathered patterns in the dimly lit sky, then roost in branches reaching heaven. Olwen felt apart from manmade world, so sought in nature a threaded pathway to understanding the world above and below. Faces emerged from trees and air, revealing worlds untouched by her. Tonight, she remained as dusk gave way to evening tide, as the dark clouds rolled overhead, the smell of iron filled her nostrils. The ground beneath her feet began to rumble as the heavens flashed its purple light. Thunder roared, lightening flashed and from behind each tree emerge majestic stags. Vibrant colours and power she cannot fathom, spill out and blanket the surrounding earth and inside Olwen. Momentarily the earth stilled, sound of thunder ceased, the only audible sound was the carnyx’s haunting call. Olwen knew she was being summoned. Voices of the underworld spoke of her completed mission with unmoving lips. Becoming aware of a Hazel tree, her eyes focus on a tall man with stag horns in his long hair. Fear eludes Olwen as Cerunnoss extends his hand and the carnyx calms her spirit, laying down to sleep and awake in Annwn.
Morning light advances, clouds hang high towards heaven, catching the suns new day rays. Blackbirds initiate the multitudinous chirrup, twittering and tweets of a harmonious dawn chorus, calling life to awaken on this spring day. Olwen's frail body lays beneath the Hazel tree holding primroses at her breast, years of aged lines erased from her face by death, which he has replaced with peace. Spring beckons summer blue skies, lushness, growth and warmth, which autumn turns mellow, yellow red and ripe. After winter stills the earth to sleep, freezing time, spring comes again growing primroses where Olwen lay.
