Hecate

The rattling bones sound from the Golden Rain tree seedpods follows me as I walk

The low tok tok tok of the ravens in the tree as he looks at me with cocked head

The low fog disappearing as I walk through the morning

I thank the Hecate for mornings that remind me of her

I walk in the between times of autumn

Leaves of flame from the liquidamber

Leaves of dust from the guardian sycamore

Leaves of green from the oaks I pass

Breezes that stir the leaves on the walk

Winds that clatter the fronds in the palm trees

Gusts that push you in front of them like sail

Colours of gourds in shining piles

Pumpkins with toothy grins and leers lurking on walkways

Sheaves of wheat and corn piled in doorways guarding, always guarding.

Hecate, guard the crossroads that I walk each day,

Show me what is to be feared and respected

And what needs no fear.

I see you in the eyes of the raven

Or the eyes of the shy cat hiding just under the bush

I hear you on the wind and in the leaves

I smell the dry dust of fallen leaves and in the crush of rosemary

I touch the brittle softness of leaves fallen and about to fall

Hecate, I know you are here now

This is your time of year and I listen.