With Painted Words

The Invitation

by Harmony Hodges

Deep in the forest

in their favorite meadow

they sat in a circle, by the full moonlight.

 

The old growth forest

watched them, protected them, that circle of five.

In hooded cloaks

they awaited an answer

from Mother earth.

 

November dewdrops formed on the grass

as swirls of cold darted and dashed,

finishing touches to the mandala meadow

of wiccan delight.

 

How were they to know

their meeting was located

just adjacent to an aquifer -

brackish, bubbling, and boiling for attention.

 

In that silent woods

with nothing to be heard - not even an owl,

a fine crack in the earth, broke the silence.

Bored, yet curious, perhaps a little lonely,

they, chthonic creatures, were making their move.

 

Then the aquifer, merely a portal to hell

rattled the ground with ferocity.

The circle of five fell over in the rumble,

tossled and turned

frumpled and frozen

winded and worried.

 

When they stood up

and smoothed out their cloaks,

there stood a gate of medieval proportion.

Complete with emerald hues

it welcomed them:

 

"Come hither - into the waterfall

Through which you will find

Some delight and refine

Of ultimate proportions

A pleasure to behold

A world of excitement

Come, be so bold."

 

With the meadow flooded,

and their leather boots soaked,

one member replied, ever so politely:

"Thank you

For your invitation so grand.

But if you could, be so bold

Take back your water, it's so icy cold.

Thank you,

Good night,

Goodbye and

Good luck."

 

The bridge with a mutter folded away

Hell was respectful on that very day.

The meadow dried up

the five resumed their spots.

Then in a circle, they focused on the center

where a sprig of basil quietly grew.

 

"Focus on its energy."

said one of the members.

"Its powers are amazing."