by Ivy
Bright mother moon,
Hung high among the treetops,
You shine through the cold November sky,
Your breath is the crisp wind tearing leaves from their branches,
Scattering them onto your body, the earth,
As you illuminate the path on which we walk,
We ask that you be present in our circle this night,
You are who we honor.
Embrace us with your arms of protection,
Return to us the love we offer to you,
Guide us on the path, chosen by our will,
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