rose's poem goes into blogosphere

One of the unexpected gifts of my birthday was Rose sending me this poem, saying she'd heard about the Brigid magic and doesn't do blogs, but here was a poem. So here it is...cast out into blogosphere, reminding me so much of the goings on at the Black Cat House, home to her and Starhawk and where I met weekly for so many years when I was in coven with them. I know all the cast of characters except Jose. Their struggles with Frances have gone on for years now. I haven't stepped foot in the Black Cat for at least two years and maybe never will again, I don't know. I'm savoring this moment of affection. Poetry has the power to heal.



The white blossoms
on France's plum tree
twisting me in figure eight
reverie
the other egg on the eight
my white and curly
soft and fluffy
utterly squishy pup
But now Frances
more and more insane
has had her man Jose
butcher the tree,
chop all the top away
it looks like hell.
Star told here
(thank goddess)
leave the part
that rises over our fence
there.
And that's the law.
This bit still blooms
that's good
and still of course
there is the dog.

- rmd
brigidtime 06