Small Transformations Everywhere
BY HARRIET SAMS
Raspberries are coming, but the buds have not even yet, opened into petals, yet I am hopeful of a bumper crop.
BY HARRIET SAMS
Raspberries are coming, but the buds have not even yet, opened into petals, yet I am hopeful of a bumper crop.
BY HARRIET SAMS
The World Wide Web of internet zooming witches and wise women!
BY HARRIET SAMS
This is how it is once the flow of magic leaves me. Afterward I am the empty reed, the pith pulled out of it, hollow and empty.
BY HARRIET SAMS
And so the great in-breath happens, but I do not know how long I can keep inhaling before my lungs burst with excitement.
BY HARRIET SAMS
Across the garden, I am holding something so small and secret that I cannot see it with waking eyes.
BY HARRIET SAMS
I sit knowing that I have been ripped open and sewn back together again, I have tasted the three drops of Awen and been transfigured.
BY HARRIET SAMS
“Learn the moods of the river, or Peg Powler will surely get you, and I cannot bear to find you lifeless, dear child.”
Why oh why
Mummy, oh wise one,
please tell me this…
Whether you can trace your ancestry back to the Celts, or you love Celtic music or mythology, or you know nothing at all about Celtic culture, this issue is for you!
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