by Tricia Knoll
Some brandish torches to burn
rotting cabins in their narrow path.
Some stir pots out of curiosity
rather than rancor.
Some fly the wood winds
and hear songs in cloud bustle.
Some pray over their dinners.
Others feed on unicorn mushrooms.
Some wear fairytale pink
and giggle like droughted streams
over mossy rocks.
Some live in the mouths
of the foxglove or of liars.
Whatever witch you chase,
know that not all are evil.
Some tell the truth.
 |
| Cartoon source: Cagle |
Some brandish torches to burn
rotting cabins in their narrow path.
Some stir pots out of curiosity
rather than rancor.
Some fly the wood winds
and hear songs in cloud bustle.
Some pray over their dinners.
Others feed on unicorn mushrooms.
Some wear fairytale pink
and giggle like droughted streams
over mossy rocks.
Some live in the mouths
of the foxglove or of liars.
Whatever witch you chase,
know that not all are evil.
Some tell the truth.
Tricia Knoll thinks witches are getting a bad rap in all this yelling about witch hunts. At least one is known to guard the gold at the end of the rainbow. Knoll's most recent collection of poetry is How I Learned To Be White (Antrim House, 2018).
0 Response to "THE WITCHES"
Posting Komentar