Paganistan: Notes from the Secret Commonwealth

In Which One Midwest Man-in-Black Confers, Converses & Otherwise Hob-Nobs with his Fellow Hob-Men (& -Women) Concerning the Sundry Ways of the Famed but Ill-Starred Tribe of Witches.

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Coat of Many Colors

All summer long, he has been our bonny god in green, and we have loved him for it.

But now come the days—so poignant, so bittersweet—for which he is called in the Old Language of the Witches Wulder, for his splendor.

His festive coat of colors he dons now, different each day: Earth's yearly gift of favor to her first-born and (they say) best-loved child.

Alas, such gifts of favor are apt to be preludes to deeds of blood.

Soon enough the end will come: the Stripping, the Nakedness, the Sleep. Truly, the Shadow spares none.

But for now he is our glory god in russet, magenta, in crimson, amber, and gold: our Wulder-Father, bonny, bonny Beau of the Grand Ball Autumnal.

And do we not love him all the better for it, knowing as we do that our time with him will be but brief?

 

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Tagged in: Green God Green Man
Poet, scholar and storyteller Steven Posch was raised in the hardwood forests of western Pennsylvania by white-tailed deer. (That's the story, anyway.) He emigrated to Paganistan in 1979 and by sheer dint of personality has become one of Lake Country's foremost men-in-black. He is current keeper of the Minnesota Ooser.

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