Imbolc and the Megillah Moon
Friday gratefuls: No lupron. Good PSA’s. Dog warmth, cold night. Kate and her sisters. Pickup at Safeway. Bright Snow. Lodgepoles. Black Mountain. Bunch Grass. Wild Rugosa. Mushrooms. Friends, old and new. Covid. Purim today.
Sparks of Joy: Vaccines. Purim shpiels. Dr. Thompson.
The Days Are Gods.
(attr. Ralph Waldo Emerson)
A Psalm for Mittwoch
Woden. Odin. Ooinn, Master of Ecstasy. How do you fill our mittwoch?
Ecstasy. Fill our poetry with heat, intensify our lives.
Days swelling with your power. Ours, too. Our days. Oh. Ooinn.
Never quit us. Never again hang from the great tree, never again die for knowing.
Ecstasy. Learning flames within our hearts in your honor.
Shaman, seer. Poet, warrior. See with the empty socket. Let me.
Dance with Mimir who slaked your thirst. And took your eye.
And water the great tree Yggdrasil with your blood
You, Odin. One-eye. Trickster. Seeker of knowledge. On this, your day, we let you in to quicken our lives.
This was gonna be my megillah post, but I’m going to have to do that tomorrow. I needed the time this morning for my assignment for Psalm’s class. We had to write a psalm for a day of the week.
Makes me want to go through all the days, seek out their divine names and powers, honor them as they seep into us, over and over and over again. Not sure I will, but the idea’s there.
