Witches and Stone
That which gives often ...
often receives nothing in return.
Do not be deceived by writing in stone.
Corn often grows taller than words;
words often grow taller than deeds.
In what field strides a dark Witch,
through stalks as thick as bovine legs.
We take a cache and fill silos
forty moons per the fields.
Geese feed in flocks as a night
haze dissolves with the sunrise.
Wrung one's neck for our bellies
now we give it spit and hot coals.
At dusk, we watch a coven of witches
feed the flames below their cauldron.
They gather petrified stubble and stone
to craft tonics and spells whilst the
crows and ravens pick clean all
discarded husk and bones.
Within a breath, the sun disappears;
darker times fill life's circle.