Sit beside this slow-cracking harvest fire with me, pilgrim. The business of that swelling blood moon is to nudge our nightdreams toward our majestic dead,..
You’re sure to meet a cackling hag who sits on her highest ribs, dangling her legs and skipping stones in her blood. She’s a trickster,..
Come, pilgrim. Rest here in my garish summer garden. I’ve just poured fresh moon-blood on rosemary in the name of the Cailleach, and I’ve nothing..
Ah, yes. I remember now. This righteous May moon is swelling between my ribs as it always does, lifting these aging breasts a bit higher..
It’s been too long, heathen. How I’ve missed those black-mirror eyes of yours! How I’ve missed those twisted-mouth expressions that relentlessly pull the secrets from..
Walk with me, sinner. My cauldron is too heavy to lift, and my athame is dirty and dull from overuse. These ritual robes of mine..
How is it with you, Witch? I’ve missed you terribly on these over-grey days. Come with me to the secret place where we buried our..
May we, on this longest night when the Crone-Gods rule, remember the joyful magick of the holy hag. Let’s brew something bitter for those we..
Oh, hold me! You are my most steadfast friend, and I’ve just awoke from the most blissfully hellish of nightmares. Take me in your arms..