“The Fame of Three Cranes”
It is a long-standing Three Cranes tradition to add a stanza to our Grove poem each year for our Autumnal Eqinox anniversary rite. That stanza is added as the second-to-last stanza.
This tradition was started by Rev. Jenni Hunt, our first ranked bard, and it charts our history beautifully. We hope to continue this tradition for many, many years, and we hope that the bards of Three Cranes, as well as the bards of ADF, will keep this poem in their memories and will tell it to others.
The video below is the poem as recited at the Three Cranes Grove, ADF, Autumnal Equinox ritual in 2017; the full poem is below the video.
| A reading of the poem on our fifteenth anniversary (2017) |
“Clutiā Trion Garanonon”
Once scattered kernels, random strewn,
Unfertilized, asleep, unkissed,
Lethargic, lurking, latent bloom
Columbus craved a catalyst.
New generation, gumption aimed
Its fertile minds and thirsting souls
Have rooted grove, Three Cranes benamed.
Its spate of growth this Bard extols.
By Kindred sown, a seedling stand
The budding beauty sprouted, surged.
Assisted by the gardener’s hand,
Its roots grew deep, its branches merged.
New fruit of labors just begun
With common vision splices hearts;
Enlightened minds may meld as one —
The whole is greater than its parts.
With blood and sweat Cranes served with mirth;
We honored Buffett, Saturn, Soul,
Toys, canned goods, banners, growth in girth
The Gods screamed, “Grow into your role!”
Three years’ new rings; we’re in a groove —
A teenage tree with growing pains,
Its awkwardness we need improve
And root into pristine terrains.
Through angry waters and winds of change
As one we light communion flames
Our course is chartered; our branches reach
Our bards and brewers are awarded fame
Our leaves stretch forth to shelter friends,
Blessings abound: the omens good.
One Priest called forth, one Priest called home,
Strengthening Ghosti, as we should.
Each moon we meet `neath robur’s crown
And celebrate what members bring
Through work and deed our voices sound
We stand as one, our gardens sing
Our trunk grows strong, our numbers soared
Through fifty rites we’ve served our folk
Transforming ways we’re moving toward
Wrapped tightly in Crane-feathered cloak
Initiate, clergy ordained in the rain
With unison call we guide the folk true
Our Bard brings home the oaken crown
The wise Founder’s vision moves forward anew
Our harvest shared with kith and kin
We serve the folk in reverent mirth
Hands are joined, new life does begin
Fires draw the Children of Earth.
A siege of cranes a decade old
As many-feathered flocks unite
Blessings of three, visions of gold
While Pagan Fires are burning bright.
With art we join our sacred space
A tale of Lugh begins anew
The torc and sickle won with grace
And with some cheese our families grew.
Migrations seed our pious flame.
Impressive feats draw forth true form.
‘Neath crane’s wing rides Epona’s dame.
Warm caps we weave for young acorns.
New sprouts sown to grow our grove;
The saplings stand with sage advice.
Laurel-crowned and oak-adorned,
Our flame flows forth, our boundaries bright.
Cranes kindle fires into the dark
Amidst our ever-growing grove.
We resurrect the gods’ own tales;
Garanus guides our prayerful trove.
The Gardener trains our Little Oaks
Midst joy and sorrow at the well
Our bardry flows, our service grows
Five and Ten our saga tell.
Full seedpods burst, fouled fields to heal,
And cranes toward keening waters’ flow.
The bard, the bee reward their zeal—
With varied voice we boldly go.
The godden help us meet the folk
While cranelets spread their wings in flight.
A flame’s relit in wide-winged Grove;
Our sacristy reflects our might.
Outbreak drives us to virtual hearths
Yet no crane stands the storm alone
Our joy abounds ‘mid Summer’s stress
New flowers bloom from deep-root bones.
We graft our root-stock with new shoots;
Our path we blaze through sickly haze.
With blessings laid, and words on air,
Flames, rekindled, light our days.
At summer’s glen our leaders flourish
‘Neath bright-hued arcs that follow rains.
Through twenty autumns we have nourished
This motley crew of cubs and cranes.
Stitched and sung, community-built:
Brass for the Well, euphonic call.
We’re mulching in, new buds to grow
A harvest rich and shared with all.
Teutates, consecrate Three Cranes,
Electrify us to the core
With fire inspire; with nurturing rains
Suffuse us, drench us one year more!
