What Makes It Witchcraft .2

This morning I’m in a local forest preserve, water bottle in hand, standing at a three-way crossroads waiting for my husband and the dog to return from exploring what I know is a dead-end path. The moon is in waning crescent phase, three nights out from full dark. Alone at the crossroads, I pour a small amount of water at each intersection giving thanks for Hekate’s presence in my life, asking that I may continue to feel Her presence and that I may serve Her well.

A summer breeze, cool and momentarily lifting the humidity, filters through the trees and across the crossroads as I finish my triune prayer, drying the sweat from my skin. The breeze continues to freshen; small fluffy seedpods release themselves from their trees and drift like soft, spangled stars to the ground. I smile and thank Hekate for Her favor; my husband and the dog appear from around the bend, and we continue our walk.

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