When the snows recede and daylight takes its due
And the frosty soil warms, opening, fertility renewed.
Eostre some will call — Ostara, goddess spring
But even she will tell you, she’s not quite what they think.
The festivals are ancient, the fresh life born anew
Out of long cold winter, dark nights, the seeming death.
We claw out of the cold, we bathe ourselves in flowers.
We feast we dance we sing — fruit is ripe, new lambs dropping.
World wide the myths and legends tell, and our blood it remembers
Everything born anew, bursting green and fresh and pure.
My forefathers knew the name of Gerd, fertile soil
Warmed to lust by golden sun, fertile beauty Frey.
On the earth he loved her and of the earth they were
The salvation of humanity — they were blessed spring.
Can you smell sweet ripe red
Strawberry on the vine?
Can you hear the humble hum
Of pollination and honey made?
This is the bursting bloom
The freshest flush of life —
Salvation at this winter’s end —
In springtime we are saved.