Your ancestors surround the well
of love unconditional, sending you forth
with the blessing on the unforgotten ones.

Step into the silver light
of the first snow,
tingling with anticipation.

One day is the gentle fall of soft flakes
on dark soil, the next is the wild storm
you must struggle through to survive.

It’s a slog, a long-haul prospect,
a journey through the labyrinth
of caverns, until you reach the light.

There, at the end, you find your tribe,
telling the story by firelight. There will be
laughter, there will be dancing.

Focus your vision on blackthorn
and hagstone, on the faerie bramble
and the wild wild wind.