A breeze is blowing and the air is light. The face of the goddess I see, wisps of her hair brushing my shoulders. As I carve my path through the night, the trees whisper in my ears....they have laid down  a colorful blanket for me, yet it looks silver in the light of the goddess. I see what is waiting- the womb of the goddess, so black and cold....sage and mugwort, oak leaves for burning...fire sticks and pumpkins, apples and wine...remains of trees that have returned to the earth, sitting quietly, waiting for me to begin my song. Four candles stand gracefully, reminding me of earth, of air, fire, and water. The night becomes deathly still as the candles suddenly breathe fire, touched by the god. He calls me to look to the North, and sends his blessing upon my rite. I gather wortcunning, place it gently in the goddess's womb. The kindling is ready and a flash is born, like a star on a winter night. The fire sticks ignite and the cold womb feels warmth for the first time since the moon of harvest. To honor the ancestors, I call to them now. They surround me, but hesitate. Wine and water now fill the womb and the scent of sage fills the circle. Oak leaves fall upon the blazing sticks...the sweet aroma fills my head with visions of celebrations past. The ancestors begin to dance, their movements like butterflies caressing my skin. Their voices are unclear as they begin to sing. I join them, my spirit is no longer mine...carried to the North, to the East, then the South...resting in the West as the goddess smiles. I hear their words now, their song amplifies, their dance is on the verge of recklessness. My spirit is free as I see my body waiting in slumber, lying peacefully as the pumpkins illuminate my face. The ancestors quiet and return to the perimeter...I can hear my heart beating once again. I lay on my back, bring an apple to my lips and taste the juices, sweet-sour, and comforting. I sit, prayers to the ancestors fall from my mouth and surround the forest. They are pleased, and they bid farewell. I feel the fire as it slowly goes to sleep, the sage, the mugwort, and the leaves are now one with the air. I sit on what was once a magnificent maple, and watch the candles...they are carried away on a whisper in the wind. The trees are pointing homeward, the pumpkins close their eyes...my body longs for sleep, and the goddess is still smiling.                                                                         HOME           NEXT                                                                                       Green Witchcraft

An Autumn Celebration