Confessions of a Hedge Witch

North West, the storm doth brew

its Power is turned  for you to fuel

Rush out you Witch and face the hour

with your intent, to weave your bower

A winter storm rushes toward us.  I stand in the bracing wind to watch the clouds.  In the growing dark of a February night, I draw the shapes toward me.  

Tuathal round the stone I tread–opening the way for all I dread.

Come Wind, Come Storm, Come Mighty Power.

I  call you here upon the hour.

This Witch’s Will I do command–a blessing for the hearth and land.

What from my womb has walked the earth. I weave a spell of love and mirth.

Shining thread, that from my hand, doth weave and weft my own Fate’s strand

You Watchers, You Makers, You Guardians Three

the fox, the badger, the worker BEE

Out from my mouth a breath I FORCE

be Blessed, be SAFE, on your life’s course