This altar is for my body-wisdom.
For listening.
For loving myself enough
to listen.

For what might emerge from January’s darkness. This moment is a pause
before the quickening of the year.

If you need it: I see you, witch. Altar, 1st January, new year, full moon in Cancer The spell jar holds mugwort, wizened and curled, picked on new year’s eve from the Talyllyn steam train tracks, the day seven of us silently retreated together in Tywyn. Milky quartz from the stream there. Yarrow from Teangue, …