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Oat straw ancient one— Milk of our Mother Gaia. Thank you for soothing and supporting us. Thank you for giving …

hawthorn heart opener mayblossom when spring winds fly— open my heart with your five-petaled flower. i carry your heart hawthorn …

When the flakes of snow were falling like feathers from the sky, a queen sat at a window sewing, and …

And so it was that Ereshkigal was forgotten. Ereshkigal, Queen of the Underworld, daughter of Nammu, the Sea Goddess. Born …

Walking through the field on your way home from school. The path leads through naked brush along the farthest edge …

Holding My tender silver reaching roots in winter cradle death. Moulding, mourning, moving back. Icy winds whirl around my naked …

In the deep peace and stillness of a winter’s morning, The sun rises and we are born again.

Solidago sway and sing of summer’s ending. Life transcending. Gilded golden on the wing. It seems like only yesterday the path …

Old Nettle Woman finds me. She comes to me in my deepest sleep. She fills me with chlorophyll dreaming. She …

Now Winter is calling her. The Western Gates are open, And once again she stands in liminal space. Not spinning, …

By air and sky and deep blue mountain lake, By sturdiness of soil and heat of passion’s flame. By rough …

A poem crafted from the titles of the songs on my Ostara playlist. It’s mostly about the language of …

There is a place within, Where faded thoughts Of loves lost and pain gained Rest in quiet settling. And there …

The Autumnal Equinox is a time of liminal space. Where I live in Canada, it is the end of a …

I noticed that your hand was trembling last night when I held it in circle. And it seemed to me …

The milkweed pod splits in my hands. And silky white seed tails scatter through my fingers and across the meadow. …

Children of the Star Goddess We are the ones we have been waiting for. The heated days of August are …

Now Summer is calling her. And she is leaning into that liminal space. Not spinning, not weaving, not wondering. Standing …

Six crows swirling. Seven songs. The meaning is in the movement. Eight brings me to the double balance. And I …

We are wings; We are feathers; We are feathered earrings; We are arrows. We drink the air, we taste the …