Sunday Poetry For My Wildling Kin

The Stolen Child by William Butler Yeats Where dips the rocky highland Of Sleuth Wood in the lake, There lies a leafy island Where flapping herons wake The drowsy water rats; There we’ve hid our faery vats, Full of berrys And of reddest stolen cherries. Come away, O human child! To the waters and the … Read more

Sunday Poetry

With thanks to my heart-sister Diane Driver, who shared this with me. Remember  – poetry is the world’s oldest form of magickal spell, and is meant to be read aloud. A Sighting  by Connie Wanek The gray owl had seen us and had fled but not far. We followed noiselessly, driving him from pine to … Read more