Tag: Nature
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Rejuvenation with the Cardinal Directions
A soft breeze is a wonderful thing, especially during the summer months. The summer is a time, too, to recharge intuitive powers. All that warmth and sunlight just invites a fresh perspective and a lighter outlook! The body feels a natural ease. To hone my intuitive powers, I engaged a “Rule of Three” spell guided…
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Drying Herbs
Summer is an excellent time to harvest herbs. With a surplus of wonderful-smelling plants everywhere you look, this season tells of untold pleasures especially for the kitchen witch, green witch, an Earth elemental witch, or any witch who works with nature.
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Black Locust Road
When Nature needs to speak, she will/ Reach into her washbag of wet roots/ Pull back handfuls of filberts, gambol/ The dice down a road/ Lined with Black Locust trees
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Winter is Always
Winter is always wintering It covers up its wilderness The hour before bedtime and the minutes After departure, It freezes bodies in the pantomime of quietus A flicker of breath. Fogging the darkness is the only sign of life, Reaching out and pulling back. Everything is prevented from blooming Except in the flash fires that…
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Bloom’s End
I tried to live at the top of that tree In twigs, no matter the frailty The green blaze, a din of temporality Swept through with reserve I fell to the trunk The spine of an open book Roofed over my heart: The Return of the Native Eustacia Vye’s heart and mine Loosed in Egdon…
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When I Think of Trees
When I think of us I think of trees Grounded and rooted and reaching Up into the Unknown to know We live in the present but still dream Green and vibrant and feathered Of a home crafted of our woods intermingled Cork and Beech and Birch, perhaps The striation and silk, strain and surrender Of…
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The Immortals of Autumn
I am carrying the light of the Autumn to travel between this and the next World and the worlds before as if I am with my husband of epochs Swaying within a forest-cracked verandah to timbres evergreen, immortal Heads of red snapper flanked by still-green callowed boughs that haven’t turned Down the comforter yet to…
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Arboretum
Beneath the canopy of a weeping Beech Wearing its molten roots like a dress Its thin skin carved into with names of elapsed loves Lump torso bowed and overthrown but held by metal crutches Ordained by some idealistic Harvard undergraduate Even the most coached head Cannot help but to fall to the stomach as if…
