Crafting (Speakeasy #95)

A hush descended over the room.

Granny Annika grabbed her broom,

She cleansed the air

By sweeping it bare

Of past transgressions and unseen gloom.

 

On the alter two candles were lit,

For the goddess and god, to wit.

A small brass bell,

A goblet as well,

And some salt in a pink glass basket.

 

Aunt Sue, the twins and Cousin Sinéad

Had sweet meats and offerings made.

Dressed in purple,

They cast a circle,

Calling The Guardians to their aid.

 

Granny Annika then stepped forward,

Athame in hand, facing northward,

With hum and chant

She did then incant,

In a solemn voice she conjured:

 

“Give us your blessing, oh Sun, oh Moon,

That we may find happiness soon.

Please help our task,

And grant what we ask,

So we might with your wisdom commune.”

 

With white silk cloth and with thread of red

Each declared a hair from their head

As offering

For good luck to bring,

To return their sister, beloved.

 

Aunt Sue collected the offering.

Cousin Sinéad began to sing,

Ringing the bell

Thus ending the spell,

Dismissing whom they’d been conjuring.

 

They all then feasted on the sweet meats,

Then to the garden with their treats,

Holding hands tight,

They sat in the night,

Silently connecting their heartbeats.

 

Then after just a moment or three

The twins they dug a hole, you see.

In the gifts fell

For all time to dwell,

As the witches said “So mote it be.”