Maiden I see through eyes of youth,
And watch you grow in lunar dreams,
I see you dance in winds of truth
And waxing beams.
The Mother heard my childish screams,
Her silver smile to guide my way,
Within the fields and flowing streams
Reflect her ray.
Then Crone of Wise I hear you say,
Those blessings dear, revealed by age,
Whilst in the waning light I stay
I’ll know your sage.
Maid, Mother, Crone;
I’m ne’er alone
©JG Farmer 2011
Form: Walian Sonnet