Poetry By Willow Dancer

"Hurry Spingtime"

I grow so weary of my confinement
solitude takes hold of my soul
the world outside of my window
bleak darkness takes it's toll.

I long for the budding of springtime
bursting forth in the most brilliant hues
strolling through fields of wildflowers
and casting off winter time blues.

I desire the counsel of my sisters
wearing fresh daisies in my hair
skyclad meetings in willow groves
and the secret circle we share.

I await the return of warm sunny days
the sprouting of mother earths seeds
the magick of life beginning anew
she gives birth to all that we need.

Willow Dancer

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