Drawing down the moon

Drawing down the moon

By the vigor of my acorns,

I do call thee down from above.

By the might of my burly bowers,

I do summon thee with my love.

By the breeze in my supple branches,

By the warmth of my growing shoots.

By the sap rising in my trunk,

By the firm earth beneath my roots.

Show yourself to us thy servants,

Draw down the moon and us address.

Reveal thine profound mystery,

Enter the body of thy priestess.

Copyright Andrew Rea March 2010