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The fatted flesh of summer,
Wrought of Lugh's love for Earth,
Hangs gravid in festooned packages
-- and shines.
Waning summer winds
Tumble clouds across the sky,
Laden with the lifeblood of the wood,
-- they cry.
The sacrifice of flesh now made,
The trees don fiery hoods,
Draw their lifeblood deep within,
And harden their bones of wood.
Rich is the feast of hill and field,
Lain upon Lughnasadh Earth.
Within the fullness of life she's borne,
The seeds of her own rebirth.
Worn from the test, with nodding smile,
She lies among trees.
The rains toil in their courses deep,
And deliver her to the sea.
This is part 3 in a suite of 4. The others are all now posted.