The Witches of Partington Canyon

(Big Sur, California)


We are the birds of Ophíon;

we soar on his powerful breath.

Our pinions were fashioned by the fingers

that spun the strands of space.

We are going to the myrtle grove

to perform the aerial dance,

to honor the guardian of the heights.

We will decorate ourselves with poppies

and with sheaves of corn and wheat.

The songs of our flock will encircle the welkin,

as we hover in the ether of its islands.


We are the sky people;

we fly on the shaft of the wind.

Our music was conceived by the seraph

that composed the chorus of spheres.

We are going to the oak glen

to call his name,

to summon the spirit of the air.

We will paint ourselves with the soil of earth

and with the juices of wild plants.

Our voices will rise in praise of him

who rules the kingdom of the clouds.


We are the hordes of the atmosphere;

we sail the streams of Zephyrus.

Our migration was patterned by the hands

that wove the web of time.

We are going to the valley of the sycamore

to call the god of the cosmos,

to invoke him who was born of the moon.

We are the swarm of his creation in form and design,

creatures of his invention through beads of sparklingr rain.

Legions of his circle, in flight and in song,

we will ornament ourselves with the bristles of his broom.


Copyright © 1993 John M. Marshall