Wednesday, February 23, 2011


Out of the night sky, stars fall.
No one sees them, of course,
But they land, ground-cupped,
Soft as snow drift, sporting
Mantles of winter’s signature white.
They bring ancestors' songs and secrets
That shape themselves into wind
Made blustery with wishes
And swirls of flakes dancing
To the memory of moonlight.
In the morning, the world
Is all covered in sparkles.

This has been a winter filled with white. Not since childhood has there been snow-on-snow-on-snow here, and now there are piles even higher than my head, and everything is snow-capped. Winter seems to have its own particular brand of inspiration, and the season has seeped into my dreams and invaded my Muse Room as well. Words like blustery, chill, and shiver flow onto the page as I sit nestled in my desk chair, fleece-covered and flanked by feline affection junkies.

Outside, the Greenman in my garden dreams of Spring.

Monday, February 21, 2011

And the pipers played 'til the break of dawn ~ a musical interlude:

Right around the time of year when everyone is starting to don their seasonal frump-wear, the annual three day MidWinter Celtic Music fest comes to town. The band line-up was stellar, and a frolicking good time was had by all. A few photo highlights (with linkage):

Jamesie of  Albannach

Angus of  Brother

Never doubt the power of music to lift one's spirits!

Thursday, February 10, 2011

Charms to Please Old Gods

Charms to Please Old Gods

Bits of lace
And blood,
Clasped hands in

Moonlight bonfires,
Hearth-bound altars
Of hope for

Hands in dirt
And dragonflies.
Tree root wristlets.

Firelight, masks
And lucid dreaming.
Opals and topaz. Burn

Rosemary and thyme,
Oak leaves and acorns,
Shape the course of

A Dreamer dancing,
Stones standing,
Shadows hung with

Words sung, shouted,
Shaped and penned
With quills, until

Smoke rings and
Twisted wreaths,
Carve twilight

Candles and feathers 
And prayer.

Sunday, February 6, 2011

When in Winter...

 ~ When In Winter ~

The days are shaped by white,
The nights are long
Blanket-bound hours,
Clad in crystalline longing.

Shards of ice and shivers;
The Snow Queen’s words
All etched in hoarfrost,
Obscure the windows,

And echo, cave-like, with
Cursive blustery curses
And fragments of mystery
Barely kept at bay

By wood smoke
And remembrance spells
Chanted hearth-side where
Warmth ghost-sings

In frost-edged dreams, and tea
Drowns one’s throat
With a wash of flowers
And memories of Spring.