I wanted a name

I wanted a name
some word to call out
as I welcomed spring,
as I rejoiced at winter’s end.

I wanted to embrace Danu
or dance with Eostre,
but found myself staring at
Illinois dirt.

The Pine is green, ever green
and the Hawthorn will bloom in full.
The Oak stands proud, its leaves
now blowing around my feet (even after this long winter).

And I still have no name,
no Lady. no Mother.
Just land. A man-made lake and its weeping Willows.

Thank you, whatever your name is.
Thank you for spring, for an end to misery,
however temporary.
There is sunshine today,
and for that I can be thankful.

To She whose name shall not be known,
I offer gratitude.
I offer myself,
in merriment and mirth.

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