Young Spring, fight with me at daybreak.
March with me, siege with me. Plant seeds in the graves of our buried dead.
Let the frozen rivers run red, let the barren trunks bear leaves once more, let the cold live in fear.
Winter’s grip is unrelenting, and now is the time for defiance,
Brother Spring, dance with me in the sunlight.
Feast with me, drink with me. Sing frost into dew, sewing fields as you step.
Let the rivers thaw, let saplings sprout, let the day begin sloughing off heavy night.
Sister Winter has reigned long enough, and now is the time for usurpation,
Father Spring, walk with me in the moonlight.
Laugh with me, cry with me. Charm snowflakes into raindrops.
Let the rivers flood, let saplings grow, let the thirsty earth drink its fill.
Mother Winter is old and tired, and now is the time for succession,
Lord Spring, run with me in the starlight.
Talk with with me, hunt with me. Chase down the icy gale on the hooves of gentle breeze
Let the river spawn, let the saplings bloom, let all the beasts of the wild rear their young.
Lady Winter is at peace, and now is the time for forgiveness,
Spring, sit with me in the dark of night.
Lie with me, sleep with me, let insects crawl up from their burrows.
Let the rivers clog with scum, let the fallen timbers rot, let the fungi grab and eat at the forest’s fallen.
Summer ambitiously eyes your lofty office, and now is the time for preparation,
-Excerpt from Mónos’s First Collection of Cantripped Poetry and Seasonal Psychopomp Rituals.