When I finally moved to the place I call Druid Heights, the most precious of all I took with me was the residue of the last fire in Madrona. In the resinous smoke I smell hut and castle and cave, Mansion and hovel. Guarding the magic no other being has learned, Awed, reverent, before the sacred fire Sharing live coals with the tribe. Every hearth-keeper has known this. We know it today.
Fire lends itself, Serving our life Serving fire.
At Winter solstice, kindling new fire With sparks of the old From black coals of the old, Seeing them glow again, Shuddering with the mystery, We know the terror of rebirth. All images have embedded registered Watermarks. The work in these galleries is the property of the photographer, who reserves all rights associated with them. The photographs may be viewed on the internet only, and may not be reproduced, projected, altered, or used in whole or in part in any way without written permission from Marcelina Martin . Copyrights are enforced.