From the shadows of the pool,
Black as midnight, thick as gruel,
Come, my nymphs, and you shall be
Silent images of me.
Suck the honey from my lips,
Dance upon my fingertips.
When the darkness tolls the hour,
I shall have you in my power.
Fast upon us, spirits all,
Listen for our whispered call.
Whistling kettle, tinkling bell,
Weave your web and spin your spell.

(from The Witch’s Sister by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor)


The Old Man of the Woods

Past the wall of gray stones, through the trees,
In a house made of spells, full of books,
With a light in his eye and his mind,
There he waits – the Old Man of the Woods.

The Old Man of the Woods
July 2021
Nine-stanza poem printed on linen paper with wood-grain cardstock covers, bound with linen thread. Original pen-and-ink illustrations made with oak gall ink. Vintage decorated capital letters. Hand-embellished with stamped crows and inked rune. Limited edition of 18 books. Hail Odin.
© Dver