In the field there danced three witches
no bones nor flesh just willow switches,
holding hands they whirled around
though their feet never left the ground,
while all who watched were filled with glee
laughing at their transparency
nothing to worry us here they said
one good fire and the witch is dead.
Filed under Comic verse, Inspired by fable, Old knowledge, Self compositions, Whimsical
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posting poetic prose
Hey-ho, the withy-witch, hey. Like it
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Does withy-witch not sound good, that’s being put away for future use.
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Has a certain catch to it. Perhaps more flexible than wicker, which reverbs with wicca yet isn’t the same.
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Love the rhythm of this 🙂
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This made me laugh.
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