Poetry By Willow Dancer


What mysteries do I conjure
I'll tell you what they be
fruits of mother earth I'll hold
herb, plant, and roots for thee

Pour sweet water in my pot
add oils to make a brew
stir it once or stir it thrice
around and back to you.

Smell the fragrant vapors
but only if you dare
lifting magick on it's wings
floating through the air.

Sift the crimson ashes
and set me on the flame
her gift of precious fire
is to wild to ever tame.

I'm built this way on purpose
three feet on hearths warm stone
triple aspect of the goddess
maiden, mother ,and the crone.

Willow Dancer
12 - 20 - 02

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