Poetry

I will take the dew of a thousand dawns and weave it into a veil.
I will take the moss from ancient oaks to pleat a skirt.
My tunic will be of captured sunsets over canyons.
My sash will be the quicksilver river running through the hills.
I will weave my mantel from autumn leaves.
My feet shall touch the Earth in reverence.
I am Handmaiden to the Earth and Her needs.

I will take the iron of the stars and forge a sword.
I will weave the strength of thunderstorms into a shield.
My helm will be the vault of heaven to shield from blows.
My armor will be the mountains.
My spear point shall be the frost that cuts down the harvest.
My warhorse shall be the North Wind cutting through the valley.
I will go as Warrior for the Earth and Her needs.

I will take the blue of the midnight sky to weave my tunic.
A glittering star shall be my lantern at night.
The rose of dawn will I weave into my cloak.
My pharmacopoeia are the herbs of the meadow, forest and jungle.
Healing flows from my hands.
I can Heal the Earth and her Children in respect and reverence.

I will take the green of pines to make my gown.
I will pull the gold from buttercups to weave a net for my hair.
My sash will be frost-fire in the night woven into a mesh of silver.
I can be Teacher for the Earth to lead her Children home.

My vest shall be of leathern oak leaves.
My leggings will be of shaggy bark of silver grey.
My staff will be the horizon between life and death.
I will paint my face with ocher and wode.
I shall braid hawk feathers and owl down in my brown tresses.
I am the Watcher of the Ways.
I am the Guardian of the Earth and Her wild places, spirits and Children.