The crone’s door is open
Night and Day
The crone’s heart is open
All the way

Oak tree legs and mossy hair
Fat soft arms that hug with care
She dances deep within the night
She sings and conjures till the light

Silver charms upon her weeping tree
Roots and tinctures all for thee
The Crone lives deep within the grove
Stirring her cauldron and firing her stove

Bread and soup and sweet corn cake
Love and hate~ we all shall make
Turning wheels and ticking clocks
Forests, Springs, and tumbling rocks

Fire and rain, want and pain
The hill crone sings of loss and gain
Candles lit, all’s said and done
Moon will rise and then the sun~