Gaia

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She slinks from behind the old dogwood tree,
Cobalt eyes pierce me,
Agate amulet hanging upon her bosom,
She grasps it and whispers beneath her breath,
“Trust in me, fore I am true,
Lean upon me, fore I am strong.”
She opens a small pewter box,
Blows it’s contents at me,
And in that breath, she is gone,
Only traces of aromatic jojoba left in the chilling air,
Wind tickles my back, lingers there – my playful Goddess,
The leaves and wind form a cyclonic spiral before me,
Dies down just as it came,
A gentle breeze caresses me,
Under the pale light of a bloodmoon,
No longer feeling so alone,
The Goddess is here with us,
On our riteful sabbat, Samhain.

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