In the farmyard the white moon of autumn shines. Fantastic shadows fall from the eaves of the roof. A silence is living in the empty windows; Now from it the rats emerge softly And skitter here and there, squeaking, And a grey malodorous mist from the latrine Follows behind them, snifﬂing: Through the mist the ghostly moonlight quivers. And the rats squeak eagerly as if insane And go out to ﬁll houses and barns Which are ﬁlled full of fruit and grain. Icy winds quarrel in the darkness.
I'm a woman, a Witch, a mother, a grandmother, an eco-feminist, a gardener, a reader, a writer, and a priestess of the Great Mother Earth. Hecate appears in the
Homeric Ode to Demeter, which tells of Hades who caught Persophone
"up reluctant on his golden car and bare her away lamenting. . . . But no one, either of the deathless gods or of mortal men, heard her voice, nor yet the olive-trees bearing rich fruit: only tenderhearted Hecate, bright-coiffed, the daughter of Persaeus, heard the girl from her cave . . . ."