i am wearing black, invoking the emptiness of this new moon..the empty space for light to come fill.
a dense fog covers the hills where i walk, making the ground moist. i stop often to listen to the leaves flutter down towards the earth.
miss artemisia reveals herself the first moment i enter the wild, but i wait to greet her until i am deep in the trees.
the greenery is abundant & it excites me to see such tones in the hills again.
in the silence, i hear a solitary bee seeking nectar.
arriving at a creek bed where mugwort grows on each side & i feel ready to harvest.
i offer a pinch of tobacco & mugwort collected during a prior new moon hunt before gathering miss artemisia.
the sun peeps her head out & i begin.
the phrase 'bringing the wild to the lips of my community' enters my mind.
i run with it.