North West, the storm doth brew
its Power is turned for you to fuel
Rush out you Witch and face the hour
with your intent, to weave your bower
A winter storm rushes toward us. I stand in the bracing wind to watch the clouds. In the growing dark of a February night, I draw the shapes toward me.
Tuathal round the stone I tread–opening the way for all I dread.
Come Wind, Come Storm, Come Mighty Power.
I call you here upon the hour.
This Witch’s Will I do command–a blessing for the hearth and land.
What from my womb has walked the earth. I weave a spell of love and mirth.
Shining thread, that from my hand, doth weave and weft my own Fate’s strand
You Watchers, You Makers, You Guardians Three
the fox, the badger, the worker BEE
Out from my mouth a breath I FORCE
be Blessed, be SAFE, on your life’s course