This Old Tree of Mine, October Moon

The moon is almost full tonight, this first October Moon.
The Winds of Change are raging from the South, a portent of things to come.
The clouds cannot prevail against them, and are throwing shadows across the moon.
I stand outside and raise my arms to Hecate, Diana, names older than man, absorbing the powers of this night.
The forces of Nature’s wrath are fueling my mind, body, my spirit is coming alive.

And This Old Tree of Mine, painted haunted against the backdrop of the changing night sky, is calling me to my ancestors, to the marshes of the primordial, to a place of decay and life, where I am free to dance the old tribal rituals to the beat of ancient drums, under an October moon.

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