Hawthorne Aisle (Valley of the Trickster)
Carry those mortal treads,
Your Hawthorne aisle.
“Walk forward, Come towards Me, Child.”
Ah, I’m in Your House
“But I am, always, In your house; It’s the same, my Fire.”
Shivering in the
Of this novel Haven.
When the fog Lifts, sun stings, Embrace your Elation.
Grant me Your Truth!
Come out, Scar Lip —
Show Your Face!
Here now, The wind howls like the Kulning, oh Grace.
Lands a neat row:
“Darling, We should give it a go.” …Would you really ask me so?
Here is my Church.
Skin prickling, we Ramble down Hawthorne, No longer in search.
Between familiar slopes,
There and here, You say:
“Build me a Home.”
Where, here? In our Chaote House I’ll write songs to Old Love.
As the Day
That Sky Treader, stared.
Bedlam God, Dandelion in palm, Eyes alight, sweared: “Sváss, we’d make an excellent pair.”
Eclectic Technopagan. Student of Animism. Dark Folk Music Nerd. Part-time goth. Loki Devotee. Creating Community. She/Her, 33, Scotland.