Eight days. Eight days out of the entire year. For Wiccans, those are the Sabbats. Eight days. And even then, we can't set them apart, take the days before them off to prepare and the days after them off to recover. Eight. Eight times every year. Eight sabbats. Eight days, just a bit more than one week, out of every year.
I swear in the days still left, we'll walk in fields of gold.
Art here.
1 comment:
With 10,000 generations of church lady in my blood, I find it impossible to set aside a Sabbat holiday and not do anything. What's a holiday without a cake and a casserole?
Seriously, I have to write the ritual for my Grove, and ... I'm sweating bullets over it. Can you suggest a good harvest poem?
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