A Begone Wind

don’t speak to the tempest

unless you’re wishing for ill

upon the house of your father

don’t wish for storms to come,

lest they wash away everything

you hold close, dear, precious

don’t sing to birds in flight,

those gossips of the skybound,

since you may court trouble

don’t go down to the river

when the tides rush past;

they’ll just drown you too

don’t call to the shadows,

because they’ll listen and

perhaps answer back

don’t walk the crossroads,

the paths of witches, demons,

the dirt cursed to bring all ill

don’t listen long to the trees

in their whistling language,

for they can lead you astray

don’t fall asleep to the wind

that lures out good little girls

with promises too big to grant

don’t forget to cross yourself

and pray to the elder gods,

or all will truly be lost anew