Summer Jewels

Summer walks with the children.


When the sun doesn’t rise

Majestically over

The horizon

But diffuses through cloud

Like milk spilling

Through ink

When bird song sends

Rain shivering

Onto sodden paths

When the moon has fizzled damply

And stars have sighed and left

Without saying goodbye

When night passes into day

With no great change

Just black to less black

To pale and washed away

This is greydawn

A haunting morn

Not a time

To be reborn.

A Day in the Woods

What a lovely weekend. I was honoured to be a part of the Online Beltane Music Festival, run by the Pagan Federation Disabilities Team, and really enjoyed seeing the other speakers and performers and interacting with the guests. For those who can’t get out and about due to physical or mental health, these festivals provide a real life-line.

I’m lucky enough that I’m quite mobile at the moment. Last year I was pregnant from February to November with various problems including a severe musculoskeletal condition which left me on crutches by the time I was 6 months in. So, despite continuing issues with hypermobility and chronic pain, I’m actually feeling the best I have for ages! So me and my friend took advantage of the summer-like Sunday weather and headed out into the woods.

Our destination was Post Hill, so named because it was previously owned by the newspaper, the Yorkshire Evening Post. These woods have a chequered history, having been used in happy times as a venue for motorbike hill climb events (it’s still a popular biking venue today) but also, in darker times, as a prisoner-of-war camp in World War II. There’s no evidence of these very different yet both very human endeavours today. The woods are lovely, dark and deep…

Online Beltane Music Festival!

Just look at this line up! I’m so excited to be on the same line up as Damh the Bard and Inkubus Sukkubus, as well as amazing speakers such as Kitchen Witch Rachel Patterson and Hopeless, Maine‘s Nimue Brown.

Here’s the link to the event. These online festivals have been the brainchild of the amazing Pagan Federation Disabilities Team, designed to allow those who struggle to get to physical festivals a chance to join in and celebrate with the rest of the Pagan community. A stalwart weapon in the war against isolation, these festivals are now being hosted by the main Pagan Federation page which should allow them to reach even more people who may otherwise find it difficult to join in with the celebrations.

A new feature for this year is the Online Beltane Marketplace. Just like a physical festival has stalls, the online festival has a marketplace where you can browse and maybe even make a few purchases. The marketplace is open now if you want to pop in!

Saturday the 12th and Sunday 13th May, from 12pm both days. I’ll be doing a short set of music at 14.45 on both days. I look forward to seeing you there!

Beltane Fire

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Moonlight Haiku

Door slam traffic jam

Fuming, steam from ears, hot mess

I pause, moonlight healed.

Rules for Living on the Moon

Don’t touch the flag

Kicking moon dust

In faces

Is Not On!

Look frequently towards

The earth

Admire the sun

With protection

Of course


Inwards and out

No cheese jokes

Ok, that’s not mandatory

The only holes

Are in the plot.

The Moon

A card is pulled

A sphere

Leaning to the side

Of mercy.

Our animal self

Howls at it

Barks at it

Gnashes shark teeth

But we can’t control

The master of tides

We fear the path

Between the two towers

Yet walk it we must

Step by step

Gasp by sigh

Kind and just


Into the unknown.


Sticky, clicky poppy lid

Snaps open; nasal bliss

Ensues; a sugary mid

Morning madness

Red, glistening, pips

Upon my shoulder

Captain of the preserves

Conserve my energy

For this conserve

A jewel upon my knife

Then spread on wheat

Burnt, golden, sweet

Jam makes a happy life!

Secret of a Daffodil

I place my ear gently to the golden trumpet

What secrets do you hold?

I heard you whispering

Just as you called to Persephone

Am I distracted by your beauty

Waiting for Hades to snatch me away

Or am I the kidnapper

Of my own destiny?

Narcissus whispers sweetly

‘Don’t be so hard on yourself’

And bobs his yellow head

In the soft, spring breeze.

The Mist

Swirling shroud

A watery veil

Like tired eyes;

A crazed wail

Cracks through the cloud

Of foggy fear

The eyes alive

As shapes appear

Looming, lunging


Towards a shuddering


Of something that used

To be alive

Now lost in the mist

Struggling to survive

Tear off the shroud

Sunlight fries

The frazzling fog

The watery lies

Wail no more

A calm descends

Mist dissipates;

The shuddering ends.