The Crone Goddess
By lovedriven • Dec 5th, 2008 • Category: Poem Of The Month
The Crone sits in Her rocking chair
And roasts the chestnuts on the coals.
Outside, December branches bear
A coat of frost in curling scrolls.
And roasts the chestnuts on the coals.
Outside, December branches bear
A coat of frost in curling scrolls.
She frightens children with Her eyes
And thumps Her cane, a solemn beat -
But ah, Her words are gentle, wise,
A waning crescent at Her feet.
Her death draws near; She knows it’s so,
But does not fear what it will bring
For underneath the fallen snow,
The tulip bulbs are dreaming spring.
Elizabeth Barrette
lovedriven is the creation of Rev. Adriana Zotelo
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