THE WORKING SITE

	A twisted tree, upon this Hallowe'en,
	Rears branches black and bare against the sky,
	The air is chill with presences unseen,
	And fallen leaves before us drift and fly.

	Steep is the hill, and dark the narrow lane,
	And wavering our yellow lantern's glow,
	As softly tread the footsteps once again,
	To keep our tryst and troth of long ago.

	Up through the hanging wood to hilltop ring,
	The bank and ditch o'ergrown with mighty trees,
	There in the gloom the ritual flame we bring,
	The witchfire burning through the centuries.

	And as it leaps, unto the pipe's thin sound,
	And chanted invocation, deep and low,
	All hand in hand, we dance the circle round,
	As wheeling stars and turning seasons go.

	Then halt, and pass the winecup round the flames,
	The fire's glow reflected in each heart,
	As in the wine we pledge the ancient names:
	'The Old Ones! Merry meet and merry part!'


The working site is an integral part of magic. It sets the mood. 
 

Valiente, Doreen; "Witchcraft for Tomorrow"; Phoenix Publishing 1985