The Hut

A soft blowing breeze lifted her sun bleached hair The sea crashes on the jagged rocks below her perch Her eyes, the gray shade of a distant floating cloud She turns on bare feet and cautiously moves away A seagull sails in the updraft at the cliff’s edge The small trail snakes upward to a winter meadow Her mind wanders as she knowingly climbs the path She pictures the smiling eyes of the Moon Goddess A rebirth of the God will come with winter winds The snowy grass baths her feet as she tops the cliff Her hands brush high weeds as she returns to the hut She enters by sliding behind a thick tanned hide A fire burns within the comfortable warm home The flames lick a clay caldron simmering sweet scents Her hand lifting a burning stick at fire’s edge She moves toward the small altar with lighted wand A shell of ground incense and two candles are lighted The cup of spring water and fresh herbs are offered Her soft knees bend as she kneels before the altar She calls the Goddess and God to her safe circle Oh, Goddess and God Please open my eyes To the secret magic Of Nature © Copyrights G. Jones 2008