Summoning

There's a time for gentle carving,
perhaps in front of the fire
during the long winters,
when the possibility of spring
seems as hollow as a promise
no-one is expected to keep.

A time for more than ritual.

A time that calls for something
far more permanent, more solid
than just a ceremony of words.

Words can conjure demons,
words can draw out ghosts.

But it will take much more than words,
more than gestures and formal arrangements
for spring to listen,
for the ancient mother to hear.

These are stones, carved
by ancient, old fingers.
These are stones of calm purpose.