As the year wanes, life dwindles and withdraws. Flowers die and go to seed. Trees lose their leaves. Birds fly south. Animals hibernate in their snug dens. The world grows old. This is the time of the Crone goddess. Her withered limbs have carried her a long way; now she is tired and ready to rest. Ancient wisdom twinkles in her eyes. Call on her and she will share it with you.
Crone Goddess, Hag Goddess, Grandmother Moon –Hear me, I'm calling you! Let me bring you a blanket To warm your old bones. Let me sit at your feet And listen to your stories. Crone Goddess, I'm calling you! Come to me now! |
© This page is for the enjoyment of visitors to Llewellyn.com, and is the copyrighted intellectual property of Llewellyn Worldwide Ltd. You may post a link to this page, but no part of it may be used or reproduced without permission.