Rising, waning crescent

She’s white and quiet this morning,
a glance through branches of bare trees
simply a neighbor in the forest, gathering her night herbs and nodding to me as our paths cross and our days begin.

Another woman sits up quietly,
pulls her cloak about her and rises.
“I have the watch,” she says, and listens while her brother makes his ablutions.

That will be this morning’s story.

The Moon and the Morning Star

Were singing to each other!


Do you understand?
They were singing and I heard them and the Three Queens heard them
(even though it is not summer)
and the tail of the Bear pointed to Arcturus, of course, but the arc carried through directly to the moon like a spotlight, like a silver carpet.

It was cold enough to be very clear, yet not so very cold.
I could stop and stay as long as I liked and gaze and gaze on the dancers and breathe deeply the sweetness of early spring air
and I could taste the moonlight a little.

Dark moon

Dark house with soft lights
Dark water invitation
Submerge, surrender,
Float… far…
Until I can hear the call
and answer in a
Dark field beneath a
Dark sky
and kneel in
Dark snow
Deep trust.

Back to the waters,
voices around me,
I listen.
I shift.
I sleep.

This morning

Moon, sweet slim old crescent, perfect for a cold winter morning

And Morning star, tear of Isis, jewel

They hang together this morning, lit by the same sun, turning simple radiation to magic and passing it on to my eyes.

May I see beauty today.

Where is the line

between working too hard out of duty,
unhealthy deadlines and self-expectation


running in to work because I am lonely
and in the shelter of this clearly defined space
I know that I have value
I know that I have colleagues who are kind and brilliant and passionate about their own niches within our niche.

I joked with my friend about “you know
my immature black-and-white thinking streak a mile wide” and he
laughed and nodded because he did know it well.

Well, I have such a streak
so I like bright lines.
I really am not fit to be let out into the real world.
Perhaps that’s the next lesson.

Dark of the Moon at Imbolc

I shall
complete something
and put all the materials away
and sweep the floor clean of threads.
I will fast to cleanse my mind and body
through this dark and this deep stillness;
I will douse the fires and melt down wax
and make new candles to call new light.
But while it sets, while all is still dark
I will lift this inward veil
and face myself

What do I want?
What do I need right now?
Is there a hope to drive this next chapter,
and if so what should I have in my backpack?
The seed catalogues have come through snow.
And faith allows me to daydream and choose
something healthy and something pretty
like strength to fulfill duty
and columbine and cinquefoil and sheep campion which will grow where they please, thank you very much
and I will light the new candles and eat cheese and tell stories to the stars.