I don't know how the original pilgrims did it, but I am on a pilgrimage of my own. In our house, this is how one pagan gives thanks. This is a poem I wrote for First Harvest last year, and I like to think of it at every Harvest celebration.
As the seeds that sacrifice themselves
To change and so to grow
We give ourselves unto the Mother
Trusting we will sow
Our roots, the thoughts that keep us mindful
Stalks, the paths we roam
Leaves and fruits, the faith we nurture
Seeds, our coming home
Bless the harvest, and the reaping
At this time of year
Give to us your strength of purpose
Let our words ring clear
Bless us with your endless bounty
Of and from the earth
And as we are also seedlings
Teach us of its worth
Each seed and leaf and fruit and flower
Dies so we may live
So when it is our time for harvest
Let us likewise give
Our time, the measure of the seasons
Our minds, the gifts we share
Our hearts, the love we give each other
Souls, the journey there
Bless the harvest, and the reaping
Thanks we give to thee
Take from us this sense of longing
Let us simply be
Bless us with embracing union
With and for the earth
For we are the future's seeds
Awaiting its rebirth
Bless the fruits of this first harvest
Freely shared and grown
And may we, in growing onward,
Give back of our own.
01 AUG 2001
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