Before October Comes For Diotima 2014 Witches are stirring in their dankly decorated caves. Their time is here now. Jaunty feather is tucked into the old hatband. Best robes are shaken out and mended. The cider is in its bottles and herb bundles droop from the ceiling beams. We keep our calendars close as the days fill. Dusting, sweeping—yes, that is also what brooms are for. There is a talk to give, a classroom to visit. The UUs need a sermon— light or deep this year? The quest continues for the bag of Mellowcremes that holds brown black cats and honeypots and Moon faces and stubby Witches. Is it Fall Mix or Autumn Mix and will the witches even be there this year or have they been finally banished from their friends? The churches raise money with vast oceans of saleable carveable inedible pumpkins which doesn’t seem fair really. Rituals are created and venues found. Classes and media calls and patient explanations of history of rights of images so old their language is forgotten. And still the graves of my people here want my attention, waiting patiently for their decoration of green beans and chicken and coconut cake, longing for their whiskey perfume.
Posted on: Wed, 24 Sep 2014 15:52:52 +0000
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