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Invocation Lady, queen, sky-ruler Flax-haired sower, Beloved Earth-daughter, Blessed white birch-woman Bounties you lay before me, Of children's voices Of opening daisies A lark soaring, singing in bliss and beauty spiralling in clear morning air song rising to the sacred halls Willow bending to the water Silver leaves that trail to touch my hand Silence holding heartbeat You keep the keys to many doors and know what lies behind. Spindle whirling, from strong fingers falling, spiralling, dropping weighted downwards twisting ørlög-laden threads: All wyrd you know, yet speak it not. Yet to your worshippers a word that points a way to fen-hall's frith-queen enthroned, enduring ever. © Copyright J Blain 1998. All rights reserved. Wyrdswell - Jenny Blain's Personal Page |
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Image: "Frigga", © Giovanni Caselli. Used with permission.