Oestra and the woodland

A walk in the woodland
With a sharp eye to see
The beautiful pasqueflower
Wind born and free
It’s feathery sepals
A sentinel who
Is a signboard to Spring
When the coolest of dew
Hangs from the leaves
It’s a masculine soul
Ruled over by Mars
Which doth control
Patterns of protection
In Hertfordshire where
I live at the moment
So please be aware
It is the county flower
It’s gentle though frail
And by Easter it can be overlooked
On the trail
Growing very slowly and sparsely
We need
Eyes Bright and clear
If we are to succeed

It’s a good way to see
How ancient woods are
Where anemones flourish
Though in essence they star
Their spread is low key
Preferring to be
Pollinated by hoverflies
Never the bee

They are shy ballerinas
Whose toxic refrain
Will Slow down the heart
Via a purpose full vein
In an iron rich soil pasque flowers
Fleetingly they
Let their dropping blossoms
And the wind kind of play
Fraility offers the eye
And sweet sense
Smellfox it’s known as
The leaves that suspense
Of thinking a fox must have just brushed
By
And scattered it’s scent
In the blink of an eye

Anemonin is the substance
We hear
That chemists May speak of
A substance to fear
From the buttercup family
Toxic and mean
Though the petals
Produce a dye which is green
Which some use for Easter Eggs
And a curious hue
A translucent natural shade
That does imbue

How using it with
My woodland refrain
Oestra and magick
The witches may deign
To advise in a spell or two
Really how green
Are my eggs on this April day
And where I’ve been
Gathering blossoms wrapped up in red
Cloth and just carry them
And you will find
A disease free period
Following you
The magic in front and behind

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