The chill of Samhain is enchanting the winds. The cackle of the Crone beckons the leaves to loosen their grip and let go with the winds of change.

The earth begins its retreat deep into its core. Connecting and balancing. Retracting and becoming infertile. From lush and busty to meager and saggy.

Awe, death. It’s cooling and breathtaking toll.

The rush of life becomes a slow quickening of blood. Congealing to the harvest of life.

From the butterfly unto moth. Light unto darkness. This is the Autumn Equinox. The preload to Samhain. The summoning of death and it’s dance of bone.

The drums of flesh yet still beat and our hearts are close to one. The Lord has yet to take His first leap in the Wild Hunt. Souls wait at the gate as the sun begins to wane.

Life’s first breath and deaths last draw, this the Autumn Equinox doth call.

Blessed Be!