Witches brew

An owl hoot
Disturbed in her night-vigil
Three voices raised in chant

One young an soft
One the strong candor of a woman grown
One the soft rasp of a voice fully used

As the chanting crescendos
The big beacon fire flares

Into the witches cauldron an array of disquiet
Skeletal bones, frog-legs, spiderwebs
Dewdrops gathered under the full moon
Herbs and tubers dried and prepared just so

The maiden adds teardrops from an orphan
The mother adds teardrops from a bereaved parent
The crone adds teardrops from those that wish to die

The ladle stirs widdershins
Magic witches brew
Spits and bubbles
Foams and vapours

Welcome shade of life not lived, the maiden whispers
Welcome phantom of love without an hearth, the mother intones
Welcome wraith of lonely solitude, the crone cackles

A fireworks of sparks
As the ghosts assemble

© REDCAT

Posted to dVerse ~ OLN: Casting a Spell

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