Yule’s Whispering Spirits

Beneath the evergreen, where candles glow,
Ancient spirits whisper in the falling snow.

In the forest’s hush, ‘neath a starlit dome,
Witches gather, making the Yule fire their home.

The crackling flames dance in the frosty air,
A sacred circle, magic they declare.

Casting spells as dreams take wing,
Through the winter night, their voices sing.

A potion brewed with herbs and spice,
Conjuring enchantments, both naughty and nice.

The Yule fire flickers, a beacon of light,
Guiding intentions through the longest night.

Gathered ‘round, hands intertwined,
A sisterhood of mystics, secrets confined.

Beneath the evergreen, where candles glow,
Ancient spirits whisper in the falling snow.

The moon’s soft glow, a silver thread,
Weaves through the branches, above the spread.

Cloaked in cloaks of midnight hue,
Witches channel powers old and true.

The Yule log burns, a symbol of yore,
A timeless ritual, forevermore.

Casting wishes into the velvet dark,
Igniting sparks with a whispered remark.