Every Man is Green

for Dan Escalante April, 2020
As well as Art Thilquist, Andy Bamberg & Jamie Madsen who have Walked On

Ours is a place that celebrates the Green.

Ours is a place that celebrates sacred feminine and the Green Man.

All women are the sacred land. All men are green.
We are all the harvest.

We are a valley of souls who venture into the inner wilderness,
as well
as the outer wilds.

Sometimes we enter with others, sometimes we leave
alone.

We know that we do not own this Place Spirit, this Earth Home,
we do not own time.
Time owns us, and the Earth receives us

The mountains enfold us, the rivers carry us home.

We are the seeds, and we will all become the Harvest.

We are meant to be tilled into
the furrows of
mountains, turned by the winds, water and weather.

Some men are elders when they are planted, others are still youths.

All men are Green.

Some men are too swift to be caught, others are caught by the swift splendor of each heartbeat.

All men are Green.

Some men are exuberantly Green, some are quietly Green,
others are gently, tenderly Green, others are valiantly, powerfully Green and a very few are exquisitely, quintessentially Green.

All men are necessary. All men are Green.

We are all the Harvest.
We will feed the soil–
human becoming humus,
humus becoming human.
It will be some time before
the new World Communion will be ready– before the seed sprouts, grows perfectly tall, comes to a head

is sickled and bundled by many hands which become one hand,
one hand which becomes
many.

Then, at Lamastide we harvest first offerings together.

The threshing floor is alive and filled with chaff.
We gather at the circle and bake
the bread.

The ovens are lit,
we are surrounded by warm sweet smells of yeast and grain, growing the loaves of life–
and communion to come.

We are the harvest.
We sing “Oats and corn, oats and corn all that dies shall be reborn.”
We must be satisfied that our labors will be enough.
We are ancestors of the future and this communion
must come.

This year we will share a feast of bitter herbs, salted wafers,
the hosts of our tears.

All men are precious, all men are Green.

We will share in the Equinox rites, We are the Ancestors, the food, the Feast and the nourishment
of tomorrow.

All men are Green.
Walking along beside the cart toward the Autumn Equinox Fires bearing the sacrificed Green.
We will sing “Vine and grain, vine and grain,
all that falls shall rise again.”

A Poem for the Maidens

Maiden of deep winter, begin the dance with Earth 
Muse of doorways, beginnings and transitions 
Made of Wolf Moon 
Snowdrops and Garnets 
Consistency on the coldest nights

Maiden of snowfall, ice consort of the Wild 
Muse of purification, refining and breathing 
Made of Storm Moon 
Violets and Amethysts 
Healing and intention in the heart of winter

Maiden of lengthening days, lover of Green Man 
Muse of courage, arousal and momentum 
Made of Worm Moon 
Daffodil and Aquamarine 
Release with the arrival of Spring 

Maiden of openings, chosen one of Nature 
Muse of abundance, tenderness and simplicity 
Made of Pink Moon 
Daisy and Diamond
Innocence paired with romance as we thaw

Maiden of growth, she who honors the Ancestors 
Muse of new life, success and plenty 
Made of Flower Moon 
Lily of the Valley and Emerald 
Devotee of creation, carry us to our potential

Maiden of the Summer Solstice, burning passion of youth 
Muse of energy, creativity and fruitfulness 
Made of Mead Moon 
Pearl and Honeysuckle 
She of radiant sun, rejuvenate our soil

Maiden of sultry weather, guide us back toward the Earth
Muse of devotion, ardor and joy
Made of Buck Moon 
Larkspur and Ruby
Create for us new heights of contentment

Maiden of triumphs, rekindle our love for Wild
Muse of fortune, renewal and remembrance
Made of Grain Moon 
Poppy and Peridot
You who favor fortune, favor us 

Maiden of equal light and dark, spin your Green Man
Muse of rejuvenation, magic and rest
Made of Harvest Moon
Aster and Sapphire
Possess and pursue the most scared of things 

Maiden of reaping, gather Nature at your breast
Muse of prophesy, harmony and strength
Made of Hunter Moon
Calendula and Opal
Prepare for the dark cold to come 

Maiden of awaited renewal, on your arm Elders rest
Muse of honesty, forgiveness and love
Made of Mourning Moon
Chrysanthemum and Topaz
Make certain we know the light will return 

Maiden of the final dance, shine on the longest night
Muse of snowfall, reflection and silence
Made of Cold Moon
Holly and Turquoise
Be the bit of sunlight left 

Anna Claire, Vinotok Wordsmythe 

A Poem to Sir Hapless

Sir Hapless,
Chainmail champion why is your blade drawn in progress’s name?
Civilization need not depend on making nature tame.
Stop this destruction, you don’t want wild gone!
Sir, have you no shame?
Warrior, your service in all its glory should protect the weak.
Honor your purpose, rewrite your story in this holy week.
Sir try in earnest to calm your fury at her mountain peak.
Nobel lad, my heart is not in your cause.
Exploitation of Earth tears her apart.
Scar mountains with cars, call improvement love, just playing your part.
Listen to what was become like the dove.
Choose peace in times of uncertainty.
Be a defender to forgive your crimes of man’s tyranny
strive to be better. Partake in the wines, to now embody
Sir Lord Protector

A Poem for the Harvest Mother

Our, goddess of harvest!
You who will soon give birth.
One from mothers to be,
blessed in fertility.
A dress in white with her crown,
address our Earth and town.
Deliver Autumn’s child,
Oh, consort of the wild!

Gather, goddess mother!
Give thanks for each other,
show us your abundance.
For you we belly dance.
For you we harvest grain.
A mother you remain.
Rebirth of last Spring’s seed
Gather life with fireweed!

Bless, goddess of the root!
Bring life to Crested Butte
Ripe regeneration.
Pregnant celebration
Pregnant from Winter’s cold.
I offer marigold
To your sacred bosom,
Ah deep mystic woman!

Reap, goddess full of life!
Attended by a midwife
In your court the trial is held
Justice is compelled
Justice, will the Grump burn?
Spring’s sacrifice in turn.
Meadowsweet, anthracite
Reap, You vessel of light!

A Poem for the Green Man

Sing mountain,
sing meadow,

ask rivers, ask aspens to tell, of their wild son who, walked long ago

He who wanders, with forest women
across snow drifts, at the Crest’s cliff
unkempt shepherd, mud-born and grinning

A dancing man, with great ram horns
moving among, worlds of man and beast

noise maker, Earth’s lover, for Earth still mourns.

Pass your crown to, who our town needs
to guide us through, valleys and peaks
as seasons change, as wind spreads seeds
Lead us towards, dancing in the sky

gather from the dirt, hunt for your meat
keep us living, while green things die

Sing mountain,
sing meadow,

ask rivers, ask aspens, to choose, a man from those, we love and know

A Poem for the Earth Dragon

mistress of mischief,
master of elements
malevolent fertile balance

fearless passionate power
of magic and fire’s breath
ancient guardian on highest lands

emblem of Earth
strength meet success
legendary existence of auspiciousness

mythic reptilian beast
winged creature of wind
life of abundance in your longevity

beckoner of rain clouds
wild wisdom unfettered
energy embody our valley’s prosperity

nature’s most original being
benevolent, fabled, ferocity
defy the potent advancement of man

battle blind progress
defend our Red Lady
scaled serpentine harbinger of luck

bring balance to our watershed
grow to match the mountain side
guard great treasures of our underground

old soul – speak truth
our primordial protector
life has its beginnings in your chaos

Anna Fenerty, Vinotok Wordsmythe

A Poem for Red Lady

There is a lady mountain in repose
Her silhouette guards our valley
Watching across history
Witness to our humanity
Protecting sheltering she
Preserves the landscape with her embrace

There is a fine lady in red flowing clothes
Incarnation of geography
Impart a human face on the theater of activism
Ignite the passion of our community
So, we may never forget how important
She is to Us

Here is a lady mountain in repose
Made mostly of precious molybdenum
My lady, sovereign mountain
Mother of our town!
Threatened by those who do not see beauty
Threatened by those who see resources in place of life

Here is a fine lady in red flowing clothes
One in a line of bold preservationist 
Oath sworn to forty-three years of political action
Seek a relationship with the wilderness, within and without
Speak for those who cannot speak for themselves
Sky, Flora, Fauna, Watersheds, Mountains