by Darcy Rasmussen

We were spinning the full-moon night, becoming-wise women. We spun, freed, tuning ourselves. From this place, the spiral paths open to view; the coils of past, present and future sliding like Eden’s snake. In this place, I find my maiden and my crone. I remember that which I have always known. And, with the unfailing instinct of the orb weaver, I spin.


Darcy Rasmussen, whose full catalog is here, writes when the spirits move her (and the children are in bed).