A Magikal Night

Full is the moon, under a clear and starry night,
The forest creatures stir to gather before the light.
In the distance an owl hoots and the wind softly moans,
The leaves stir gently and the trees are overgrown.

Off in a small clearing, a woman stands alone,
Her kettle in the center, she sings in ancient tones.
Dancing in a rhythmic dance, around the fire pot,
She draws a sacred circle around this very spot.

She calls to her goddess, a name lost in time,
With a sword in one hand, and the other a chime.
She traces the circle; a small flame comes from the tip,
Calling on elements, the sacred wine she does sip.

The clouds all assemble, and the rain starts to fall,
She gives thanks to her goddess, and stands very tall.
Her hands out to her side, palms turned to the sky,
Precious droplets fall on her face, she begins to cry.

The drought is now over and she leaves to go home,
Her energy is spent, and legs are heavy like stone.
Drenched by the rain with a beaming smile on her face,
She is thankful to her goddess for such a magical place.