Twilight at the Crossroads

At the crossroads of seasons,
In that hallowed in-between,
The maiden’s tender twilight meets
The mother’s zenith of mourning,
The crone’s wisdom-veiled dusk.
Here, we descend into shadows,
Pouring ourselves into depths
Where even blossoms falter to hold.
Yet, we are cradled by earth’s breasts,
Nestled in the long slumber of night.