The Sky Witch

The Sky Witch

She flies through the silver air

the moon her endless mirror

the broom her stubborn friend

old laughter curls behind her

as the clouds open wide.

No fear, no shame, only the wind

and a crack of thundered pride

her cloak is night itself

stitched with the sighs of stars

and the forgotten jokes of ages.

She remembers when magic was loud

and people whispered her name

now she drifts above their roofs

and farts at their disbelief

letting the sky itself giggle.

Someone once asked her kindly

did she fart up in the sky

she replied with steady eyes

yes, but only when I need

to fly fast through the storm.

The moon winks, knowing the truth

that freedom smells like rebellion

and even the oldest witch

can make the heavens laugh

when the night grows too heavy.