Hecate, my goddess.
She reigns over crossroads, magic, witchcraft.
Some say the night, the moon, the doorways are her domain.
Hecate, triple goddess,
Maiden, Mother, Crone.
Wolves, torches, snakes, and knives,
signs of my great deity.
I beg of you, oh goddess, anger not at me, but teach me to be better, to follow in your ways.
Teach me to be a witch, dear goddess.
winter's coming on fast —
better chop enough wood.
pluck the last fruits of the harvest —
then say goodnight to the garden,
resting under a blanket of leaves and love.
In the vet's office.
My bunny, sedated.
They are coming soon with the second shot.
She had a good life. I hope she finds peace.
I'm going to miss her so much.
I love you, Whisper. I'm sorry.
Do you think people 100 years ago, in rural Vermont, looked up at the sky, at the milky way, the moon and all the stars? Do you think they marveled at them, and taught their children the constellations?
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