Dancing Hands by Holly Cross

Magic from afar

starts with magic close at hand.

Sister Hecate sways

as she grinds the herbs beneath the pestle.

Her long, slender fingers of white

work quickly, gliding

through the steps of the spell.

With one drop of rain, herbs of the earth

and salt from the sea, she pours herself

into the bowl, impregnating the preparation
with power.

She spins to face the distance

and sees the destination in her mind:

a man on a horse, dressed in armor.

She scoops the compound into her palms

drinks in the wind

and blows the words across her dancing hands.

The soldier sees a comet coming for him

and then he falls to the cleansing earth.

The horse bolts, leaving her master behind.

His message of war will never arrive.

His cold heart was stopped by the dart of a Queen.