Saturday Poetry Bloging
Pale Hekate
Pale Hekate has come to the garden
called by our pomegranate offering
beneath the shadowed hedge.
Her hands rake a trail of death,
dying in a spiral
bedded into the earth.
In her wake, the mint sprigs emerge,
luscious and renewed.
Green children offering grace
at the feet of death.
~Jacinta Cross
Picture found here.