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Note: originally published at Feminism and Religion.
This morning,
I walked around the field
and discovered
three soft white breast feathers
of an unknown bird,
two earthstar mushrooms,
sinking quietly back into the soil,
one tiny snail shell,
curled in spiral perfection,
and the fire of my own spirit
burning in my belly,
rekindled by elemental magic
of the everyday kind,
the small and precious gifts
of an ordinary day.
In my dream,
the Summer Queen
is wrapped in summer’s fire,
garbed in gowns of gold and brown,
and blazing with desire,
the grass and grains
are winding down,
leaning in ebbing spires.
She feels the heat beneath her feet,
her stride is wide,
her lips are sweet,
her arms lift up to lightning streaks.
She twirls around on thirsty ground
raising the passions higher.
With hips and hopes expanding wide
her heart alight with joy and pride
her song is strong,
her howls are long,
her many prayers are hot and bold
and then her plans
find ease at last
remembering the wheel spins fast
it’s nearly time to share the floor,
as Autumn’s Queen
peeks round
the door.
In August, I feel held in a space between summer’s fire and summer’s fatigue. There has been a blooming and a ripening, and now a harvesting and a fading begin as the time comes to turn the page.
The Perfect Beltane
The cool touch of dew
across cheeks and brow,
a single pink dianthus emerging
between stones,
sunlight kisses through leafy canopies,
a circle of flower petals,
a gentle hoop of wild raspberry cane
making a celebration arch
under which to sit
on a broad flat stone,
gooseberry bushes by my knees
and the sound of wild turkeys
rising from the valley,
as the sun lifts steadily
into the sky.
It is this small magic
of living I crave
and delight in,
the silent ceremonies
of surprise and skin
that arise before my eyes
and sink into my bones,
the very day itself
the ritual handbook
of a wild witch alone.
I touch the earth and offer gratitude
for this land I call home.
I reach towards the sky and offer gratitude
for sun, moon, and stars.
I place my hand on my heart
and breathe deep, offering gratitude
for all that I am and all that I have
and for the many blessings of my life…
As we reach the celebration of First Fruits, Lammas, on August 1 (or August 7), it is a beautiful time to reflect on the abundance in your life, the bounty around you, and that which you are harvesting or savoring.
This morning
I laid on my back on the rocks
stuck my legs straight up in the air
and then spread them open to the sky.
I brought my knees into my chest
and laid there on the stone 
like a stranded beetle for a while
thinking.
I had the sensation
that I was waiting for something,
some insight or
inspiration or
magical something
to happen,
and had a vague feeling
of disappointment
in such a “normal day”
with no special lesson
or encounter.
But, then I heard a small voice
from within say:
“well, you got your spirit back,
so there’s that.”
And, I decided that was enough.
On my way back to the house,
there was a snail on a leaf.
As I emerged from our Cauldron Month, I received the Seed card from Womanrunes. This is a rune of waiting and ripening and is the perfect rune to consider during a time of processing and exploration. What did you find in the cauldron? What tender seed are you nourishing? What is getting ready to grow for you? To push up its first tender shoots of exploration and discovery?
Maybe this seems like an odd time of year to be speaking of new growth as the wheel of the year in the Northern Hemisphere moves towards autumn, but as we deepen into the shadows of the colder months of the year, I find my attention turns to those seeds we plant and nourish in our dark spaces.
where the hidden seed lies unfolding, the unseen power that rises within us, the dark of sacred human flesh, the depths of the ocean, the night—when our senses quicken; we reclaim all the lost parts of ourselves we have shoved down into the dark. Instead of enlightenment, we begin to speak of deepening…”
I am the blossom, I am the bee
I am the branch, I am the squirrel
I am the acorn, I am the oak
I am the breath, I am the words
I am the space, I am the fullness
I am the song of the May.
Happy Beltane to all! We brought in the May by the wild, flooded creek and river. I have never seen the water so high and intense! We offered our flower blessings to the churning, deep water, and sang together as we faced the wildly swirling torrents of water, accompanied by its music, awe-inspired at how quickly a landscape can change after several days of heavy rain.
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