Walking the Hedge

The mountain repeats the sound of my hatchet back to me

The sun sinks and the air cools quickly

The rhythm of my little axe draws me in

The thinning veil draws me out

The sun sets behind the hills

The moon does not rise

The skies darken and it begins to snow

The Hallowed Tide is here

The forest beckons seductively

I know better

I go inside and build up the hearth fire

Related posts:

1. Oak and Holly
2. First Snow 2008
3. Three Witches