The crone energy is so seductive
I always feel her at this time of year.
And right now my body
The moon
And the seasons
Are singing from the same deep.
I feel her black expanse
As she croons to me,
"Come and rest, little daughter
You've lived many lifetimes
These thirty years
My sweet."
I think of the experience that was hard to win
There isn't much I haven't done
Isn't much
I can't lay my compassion like a blanket over
And pour my wisdom for like tea.
I find myself craving
To stay with the grandmothers forever
To lay my longings in a wooden chest with lavender
And close the lid.

Today I am tired
And here I will sit
Surrendering to the dark
That nourishes the seed of my courage
The soil that holds me tight and snug
Until I am able
To crack open
To bud.
"It's not your time, yet" she whispers
"But I will cradle you until you feel ready
To step out and dance again.
Flowers in your hair, daughter,
Man on your arm
Babe at the breast.
Don't lay it all away with me just yet."

- Jenny Wren