The trees, dark against the hill,
Rooted, tethered to the earth
Wind in their hair, web the scattered light
They spill their seed upon the ground
in one and husk go spinning down.
Red is the heart of the rowan
for she dreams of blood.
Witches triads bound in thead
and berrie hanging,
leaves with frost
Withered boughs that comb the wind
and shake with winter
Heart of the wildest night, keep us
lost within your leaves
Awake with summer grasses, dusk behind
the door.
Bind the mistletoe and consecrate the ground.
Larch and pine and
wind for company
Guard you all who silent are
and rustle with the tree.
Trees...copyright CBE
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