Ode to April:
you arrive with thunder and wind
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Blog posts tagged in woodspriestess
A Ritual for Thanksgiving:
Take a walk.
Find a pretty rock.
Don’t take it.
Go home.
Keep your promise.
This is an excerpt from my essay forthcoming this week at Feminism and Religion, reflections on colonization, war, and who invented jelly.
I will be taking a break from posting here for a couple of weeks to focus on finishing things up in the shop as we prepare for our winter holiday break. December's free practice update for #30DaysofGoddess will be ready for you this weekend--a new video + printable sampler pack of prayercards and resources.
May you know the warmth of connection and the hearth of community. May you breathe in great breaths of gratitude and breathe out great breaths of peace.
We set forth seeking chanterelles,
past the barriers of thorn and bug
and into the quiet slopes and mosses
of an August wood.
We did not find many mushrooms,
but we did find:
A queen of hearts playing card
and a few steps later,
the jack.
A lower jawbone, worn and smooth,
incisors and molars
still in their places.
A turtle, once wounded,
now healed,
v-shaped crack in its shell
framing its patient
yellow-spotted face.
A copperhead snake,
perfectly patched
for patterns made by sunshine
filtered through oak leaves.
One crow feather,
a bit ragged,
and a gray feather too.
Three white-tailed deer,
startled into flight,
quick hooves clattering away
across the stones.
More spiderwebs than we can count.
The tiniest of tiny ticks,
spilling from seed head
into our shoes
and hastening our steps.
Moss with sun on it
and tufted titmice
squabbling in the hackberry trees.
A spiral shell fossil,
sparkled with dusting of quartz,
its small curve pre-dating
every moment of the entirety
of human history,
and yet here today
with us now,
reminding us that we walk across
what was once the bottom of a sea.
The sweet sensation of aliveness,
that comes with loving something enough
to give up a bit of blood and body
just to have a taste.
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Molly, Great poem! I hope that you and your husband are extremely careful whilst gathering mushrooms. Even people with decades o
The mulberries are now bare
while the oaks are still cloaked
in shades of yellow, orange, 
and brown,
maples and dogwoods
still clad in scraps of red.
Puffs of woodsmoke
catch the morning light
and hang like mist
in the cedars,
my breath too,
a fine cloud
trailing away into the trees.
There is something in the air
that speaks of satisfaction,
of change,
of cycles complete and renewing.
There is an invitation
to pause and witness
and to mindfully choose
next steps and new directions.
Our lives can hold
what we want them to hold.
Be present,
stay open,
attend to what is.
Be in the world,
in your life.
Return to center
again and again.
Sometimes you may feel dull
and worn,
...
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Molly, Thanks for sharing! It succeeds both as poetry and self-help literature. The imagery is beautiful and worth pondering.
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Thank you! Glad you liked it!
It is April and Earth’s Mystery School
is in session.
The dogwoods are preparing
to hold council,
draped in white
as they line the corridors
of discovery.
Chickweed has already been
holding a party in the front yard,
scattering the grass with stars.
The violets are keeping company
with dandelion,
trading tips on how to best enjoy the sun,
while waiting for bees
to waltz over from the plums.
Speaking of plums,
they’ve got a lot to say,
bursting with enthusiasm
and excitement to share
all they’ve brought to offer
and arraying their teachings
before you with a delicately irrepressible
and intoxicating air.
Dialogues with daisies will be
beginning just down the way
and there is much to learn
from elderberry
as it stretches tall
and prepares for an audience
capable of patience and possibility.
Lillies and iris are considering
options for collaboration
and preparing a display,
but they will be waiting a bit longer
for just the right moment to speak.
Hyacinth is feeling shy,
but has a small class to offer
on tapping into delight
and touching deep secrets
and long memories.
It is a fine time to divine with witchhazel
along the way
and choose recipes with maple 
and morel,
time to talk tea and tinctures
with toothwort and trillium
and to learn sweet secrets from
redbud and lilac.
Raspberry and blackberry
are getting ready for a team effort,
teaching about the sweetness of boundaries and about
holding space.
Rose will be a guest lecturer
as she knows a lot about balancing
bounteous blooming
with assertive limits.
Wild cherry has been wondering
what to share
and soon she’ll spread her
graceful arms
to welcome you when summer school begins.
Leave behind your computer,
you won’t need it.
Lessons are free and open 24 hours,
broadcast live even from
sidewalk cracks and roadsides
and vacant lots.
You’re welcome to study
as long as you like
as long as you’re open
to the schedule
of what is now.
I carried lemon balm
and sweet almond oil with me
into the woods
and sat on a stone. 
I saw three vultures rising and falling
wheeling and whirling
gracefully above the valley
and a single black crow zip busily
along the horizon
as its kin called raucously
from unseen trees.
A neat triangle of nine geese
passed above my head,
close enough for a change
to hear the rhythmic sounds
of their wings moving the air
as they passed me by.
I encircled myself with lemon balm,
scattering it loosely
on the leaves around my rock.
I anointed my body with sweet drops
of scented oil
and whispered some wishes to the wind.
These, my own spontaneous
and solitary
rites of spring.
Suddenly, the slowly coasting vultures
changed course
and angled across the blue sky above me.
I felt the shadows of their long wings
gently cross me
as I sat silent in my circle
and felt tears rise into my eyes
and laughter rise to my lips
at the exact same moment
as I recognized the feeling
of Persephone’s return.
ty!
