Alexander Averin

Wednesday, 30 October 2013


A Spell for Saboteurs

The Hunter’s Moon is never discreet; that
night it was was lofty, sanguine, rather like
my mood.  I joined them after sunset below
the rowan tree; white witches, saboteurs,
moongazing together beneath the moon’s
penumbra. As their spells were cast, their plaited
tresses and the moon shone with a reddish
hue, the brilliance befitting their eclipsed
emotions, the sacred craft of Wicca
no illusion. The only darkening
on our souls were the murderers of  badgers
and other beasts: hare, deer, fox, rabbit, pheasant,
and other such game for evil players,
chasers, slayers, cullers, shooters, all with
a sickening lust for the bloodiest kill.
They sensed my presence, I stayed softly in
the shadows knowing Evil, for once, was
beaten, banished by the light, so that only
goodness prevailed on this night of heightened magic.

Cait O’Connor


Mrs Black the shoppe keeping cat said...

Important words. Much thought. I love your new cover image. Halloween greetings to you. x

Elizabeth Wix said...

Such a splendid tribute to a magic and strange evening.
Love and greetings.

Tommaso Gervasutti said...

I have enjoyed the intensity, frankness, the "eartiness and moonness" of this poem, breathing turf.

Countryside Tales said...

Hi Cait,
I'm not quite sure how I found my way to your blog, I seemed to skip through several other blogs and then realised you also follow Em at Dartmoor Ramblings, so I could have found you from there in the first place! Looking forward to reading more. CT :-)