Beneath the veil of a snowy night,
The Witch’s cottage glows with light.
A purple hue, a silver star,
A beacon seen from lands afar.

The path is traced through frosted ground,
With whispers of Witchcraft all around.
Icicles guard the sacred door,
Where secrets linger, tales of ancient lore.

Inside, the incense softly billows,
A hearth alight with timeless dreams.
Herbs and candles line the walls,
Echoes of Esbat rituals call.

The winter winds may howl and bite,
But this is a haven of warmth and might.
A sanctuary where magick’s spun,
Under the gaze of the midnight sun.

So tread the path, but tread with care,
For power and mystery linger there.
The Witch’s cottage stands alone,
A place where the unseen makes its home.