Paganistan: Notes from the Secret Commonwealth

In Which One Midwest Man-in-Black Confers, Converses & Otherwise Hob-Nobs with his Fellow Hob-Men (& -Women) Concerning the Sundry Ways of the Famed but Ill-Starred Tribe of Witches.

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The Goat or the Hare?

 A Poem About Love


My friends all loved the Yule Goat best.

But I loved the Ostara Hare.


I know, I know. The Yule Goat brings presents.

Everyone likes presents, right? But look at them.

Shirts and socks and underwear?

You call those presents?

And the rest isn't even what you want.

(It's maybe what you'd want

if you were who they thought that you were.)

 And the Goat, I mean:

you go down in the morning and there it all is.

You don't have to do anything.

I mean, it's just all, like, there.


But then there's the Ostara Hare.

He brings what you're not supposed to have

(especially first thing in the morning):

what's bad, what's sweet,

what you really, really want.

Oh, and the Hare, he doesn't just give it to you.

He makes you work for it:

you have to go look.

The Hare doesn't just give you presents. Oh no.

Instead, he gives you a quest.


Well, there's love and there's love.

Who's better, the Goat or the Hare?

Lore-masters disagree.

The perennial debate continues.








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Tagged in: goats Hare Ostara rabbit
Poet, scholar and storyteller Steven Posch was raised in the hardwood forests of western Pennsylvania by white-tailed deer. (That's the story, anyway.) He emigrated to Paganistan in 1979 and by sheer dint of personality has become one of Lake Country's foremost men-in-black. He is current keeper of the Minnesota Ooser.


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