The Air moves by with a rush and a sigh
A brisk or a gentle blowing
It travels unfettered, wild and free
Raising restless ripples with its going.

The breeze goes gamboling
Along the mountain trails
It moves the branches of trees about
As it moans and sings and wails.

A cooling north wind scatters clouds
Tosses colorful leaves about
It crisps the days of autumn
And turns hardy people out.

Pitiless winds of winter
Shriek across the frozen land
A time for inner reflection
Turning to others with a gentle hand.

Warming winds awaken the Earth
Sending the cold of winter on its way
It stirs the life in growing things
And freshens a summer day.

I ground and center my body
To generate harmony.

I close the Circle around me
Drawing the things I need.

The candles gently flicker
Stirred by a random breeze.

Multitudes of thoughts are stilled
Granting my Spirit comfort and ease.

An aura of understanding
My minds enlightened expression.

Then loving emotions celebrate
The renewal of pride and passion.

Time to Earth the Power
To return to the world mundane.

Continuing to weave a tapestry
Till the Magic of the Circle again.

If I could live in a forest
And sleep beneath my Trees
I'd cast a circle 'round us
So happy would I be.

I'd sing and dance and celebrate
And worship the Moon and Sun
I'd gather wild creatures 'round me
And watch their antics for fun.

I'd welcome the changing seasons
And keep each Festival well
I'd honour the Gods and Goddess'
And through time and space weave my spell.

I ground and center
Trace boundaries
Invoke the powers of the Spirits
Sprinkle water and salt
Wave incense and burning branch
Salute Sky and Earth
Touch athame to cauldron and candles
The Circle is cast
The Fire is lit
The Ritual is begun.

a dusty tree lined country road
  its shoulders strewn with violets
  leads to an overgrown yard
  surrounded with lilac bushes.

  weight of many winter snows
  has crushed the old house roof
  toppled the stone chimney                                                          ­                     
  and rusted the locks.

  huge rooms seem even more so
  in their emptiness
  ghostly shapes of frames and shelves
  look etched upon the walls.

  footsteps echo through the house
  generations of voices are silent
  prickly berry bushes cascade among
  sunken cellar walls forming a hedge.

  there is no one to **** out
  nettles or sweep dried leaves
  from the rickety porch
  No one to open sagging shutters.
.
  window frames are cracked
  dusty glass shards have fallen
  into the brittle litter of
  wilted flowers and spent stems.

  as evening fades dust grows cold
  stream water glints through branches
  and night winds toss shingles about
  creaky wicker arm chairs wait.

  soundlessly a cat steps out of the grass
  sleek and lithe with gleaming green eyes
  he blends smoothly back into the dark
  after leaving a mouse on the stoop.

we spend our last few years
      much as we spent our first few                                                              ­    
                                                                ­          
trying to get someone to pay attention to us
        wishing we could eat grownup food
                   hoping for better toys


           And waiting for Mom and Dad
                 to come and get us
                    and take us home.

It is dark,, past the royal blue of evening
                              into the velvet black of night
                I walk across a vacant lot where bits of
                    Broken bottles glitter like fine gems
               so much shattered glass, scattered islands of weeds,
                            trash blowing here and there
                        this isn’t a friendly or a safe place
                     as I move along I think of violence that
                             has occurred here where I am
                 waiting now just below the quiet surface?
                          but this is part of my way home
                                   what am I doing here?
                     so far from the woods where I grew up
                       such a distance from my safe world,                        
                     I am not afraid, I don’t look behind me
                                   what happens, happens      
                                               here I am.