The moon rises bald as a featherless egg
and spur heeled witches gather.
Whipping their legs through frozen bracken
they come wreathed in ribbons
thorns braided into hair
covered in mud
bringing their own blood
gold painted skin coruscating fire
Nails eagle taloned flares
Consecrating
The cracks that aren’t supposed to seep
Tearing the world open like honeycomb
Offering red quartz
Offering tears
Offering wet moss
Offering rage at injustice
Offering pigeon feathers
Offering protest
Placing their tribute
Upon the burning altar.
Photo courtesy of Martin Adams