with blood of goat and milk on fleece
the year turned its frost hoared eyes to life
while salt prayers were spoken to listening gods.

and the she-wolf raised her resting head
unfolded those myth born limbs,
gifted her scent, rank to the wind,
as she walked the festooned streets –
blessing the young and with child.

she listens still.
sleeping soft in the dust of centuries,
waits for our words on the wind.



Read a lovely piece by Tamarisk Glogauer here about the relationship between Valentine’s day and Lupercalia.

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