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.
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:
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
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.”