Strange Sisters
Already it is a happier winter
As yet unlived,
Turning leaves betokening the great wheel's
Turning in anticipation of rain and dark
And morning's waking to the icy touch of air
Before I light the fire.
Already this winter promises gatherings
Circles of friendly faces,
As we three witches tonight
Stirred up the caldron of memory
With scissors, paper, stone.
Spinning the threads,
Gathering up fragments of ourselves,
And offering them as delicacies
For each other's delectation.
Swirling, shaping, sharing,
Celebrating the spells we're weaving.
Oh yes this is a happier winter
Than others I have known.
All my mourning one year on:
Softer, quieter, no longer stormy,
Tearing, ripping, slashing,
Violent. This winter I will gather
The shards left over,
Fashion them in form,
Piece myself together
An offering to the Goddess,
A gift to share with others.