Inheritence
oil on carved wood in upcycled frame
Cerunnos holds out his shed antler, his truths in the marrow, to you,
for contemplation. He holds your gaze
bronze age eyes, the darkest soil
where you take root, where wine grapes grow
harvested again and again, sacrificial bloods stand - in
a marker of time, this moment
never still, the seasons turning
in the planet, spinning
in the universe, turning,
he sits calm and at peace, in the center of it all
he says, “enjoy. be
here now, each tick on the spiral
you see its curve, ahead and behind
his torc, his turn, now, your turn
your inheritance
