blog description

Old women talk about old things: history, myth, magic and their
checkered pasts, about what changes and what does not.

Monday, December 22, 2014

AVEBURY

Solstice Song
 
 
 
 
 
The place of dreams,
Of ancestors and bones,
Of chalk and flint,
Of long-lost ceremonies and
The sacred hares’ circle dance.
Beneath Grandmother’s silvered rays,
We breathe magic
Charms of frost.


~Juliet Waldron
 
 
 
 

4 comments:

  1. You are welcome--poems come very occasionally these days, gifts of the Goddess.

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  2. a lovely poem just right for the solstice. a note from the goddess to pay attention Thank you.

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