Musings of a Massachusetts Witch

Perpetual Flame


Born yellow, orange and red I was

to this wooden limb

to this oak dweller

but in the sacred grove, wise as a tree,

silently walks our caretaker,

tending her duty

though between solstice and equinox, fall it now

was birthed in times of long ago.


Now my entire intention’s to purify

Kildare’s sentient beings worth protecting

from pestilence, vermin, and imps

that no individual petition

would overcome

clever maliciousness manifested in darkness, each attack

unmade, undone – swathed in my embrace.


Wise one, revered Lady

of Imbolc we offer bannock and drink;

showered by your kindness

we raise goblets abundantly flowing with ewe’s milk:

Sweet sister, stay

not of weariness or hunger, but linger

lay in this bed; bless us, bless us.