The Hut
A soft blowing breeze lifted her sun bleached hair
The sea crashes on the jagged rocks below her perch
Her eyes, the gray shade of a distant floating cloud
She turns on bare feet and cautiously moves away
A seagull sails in the updraft at the cliff’s edge
The small trail snakes upward to a winter meadow
Her mind wanders as she knowingly climbs the path
She pictures the smiling eyes of the Moon Goddess
A rebirth of the God will come with winter winds
The snowy grass baths her feet as she tops the cliff
Her hands brush high weeds as she returns to the hut
She enters by sliding behind a thick tanned hide
A fire burns within the comfortable warm home
The flames lick a clay caldron simmering sweet scents
Her hand lifting a burning stick at fire’s edge
She moves toward the small altar with lighted wand
A shell of ground incense and two candles are lighted
The cup of spring water and fresh herbs are offered
Her soft knees bend as she kneels before the altar
She calls the Goddess and God to her safe circle
Oh, Goddess and God
Please open my eyes
To the secret magic
Of Nature
© Copyrights G. Jones 2008
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