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Eostre Maiden of the shining East, melting the Imbolc snow
Spring rain Mother, warm us, wash us, heal us as new buds grow

Mid-wife Crone awaken to care for new life so sacred and grand

With hot-cross buns and eggs we feast as the hares do breed like the land

The maidens are dancing, young pages romancing in fever with scent of the blooms

The Mothers are busy, their hands in a tizzy as their fingers spin thread at the looms

The Fathers they worry, all in a hurry to come home by the end of the day

Lest their daughters be taken, their family be shaken, by some sot who would sport her away

The Lords they do court the Ladies in waiting, hoping to wed them in June

Little lasses they giggle, snicker and wiggle, while one is pretending to swoon.

So know that the bounty of harvest will come as you plant each and every seed

Spring's hope will bring answer as you dance in a lancer for all of your toil will
succeed!___CraigWicce Ostara 2009

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