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“The White Witch walked
through the groves
of Finnish woods
Dusting powder here and there
Till the trees were lost against the sky
In carpets and cloaks of snow
She hung her mantle on the roadside
Where the blackberries appeared last autumn
Air and silence
Afternoon sunset
Endless dawn
Early evening
The skies open onto a great swath of stars
Pale faced moons and milk
She seems sweet
Enchanting
Children sledding in the morning
Crone like
Cauldrons
Wisest, veiled one
Frozen, cold and dark
She turns the wheel
Death
Soothing voice now
Singing to trees
Sap lays sleeping
Rest
Rest
Rest and look inwards
Destroyer of old
She allows the new to come forth
Birthing the Spring
Crocuses and bird song
”
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