Fairies giggle as the waft through the lazy summer morning on fluffy flower seed clouds in the warm still air.  Tufts of cotton are strewn throughout the path as if She ripped off her gossamer gown in a passionate laugh of joy, naked and dancing in the forest.

I’m forging a new path in my life, tramping down the grass, weaving through the poplar stand, finding my way–Her Way–through the briar bushes.  She calls me, juggles ideas in my head, pounds at my heart, itches my fingers, shoves me from behind and insists on my action through my daughter’s dark green black Irish eyes.

My Dear Divine Lover took a lock of Her golden hair and a piece of Her sunshine heart, threw ask and river and grass and seeds and mud and night and fire into the body of my mother to dive into the brilliant green world as me.  Now She sings her siren lullaby and calls out that part of Her within me to be at one again. 

The umbilical cord is my daily song to Her each moment of the day as my heart pumps against my ribs to shine Her back out to you.