Deep beneath the shade and power
Of this tree we call our tower
Day is fleeting, shadows fall
Across the path our feet touch all
End to end this circle’s path
Blazing shining as we laugh
Dance the merry round with spark
As we witches tread the dark
Wheel turning eight-rayed sun
Spiral serpents birth the one
Crescent moon lays down her claim
To her lover, hanging lame
And we the witches of Wildwood
Stand where ancient stones once stood
Now the greening seeks the grove
And that which rests in treasure trove…