Saturday Poetry Bloging

Pale Hekate


Pale Hekate has come to the garden
called by our pomegranate offering
beneath the shadowed hedge.
Her hands rake a trail of death,
dying in a spiral
bedded into the earth.

In her wake, the mint sprigs emerge,
luscious and renewed.
Green children offering grace
at the feet of death.

~Jacinta Cross

Picture found here.