The Storybook Witch

Dark silhouette against silver moon

astride a broomstick in the gloom;

soaring over treetops black

long shawl flying, pointed hat -

the story book witch is on the prowl.

Who sees her journey? Mr Owl.

He hoots his greeting from the trees

as she passes by with witchly ease,

and listens to her evil screech

as she swoops and passes within reach.

Her cackle echoes in the night

even as she flies far out of sight.

Round cauldron she and others prance,

cackling loud in ritual dance.

"Eye of newt and powdered bone"

these aged hags their spells intone,

and laughing wildly, eyes ashine,

look to the moon for answering sign.

As moons light dims and dawns sun shines

there comes an end to ritual times,

and back on broomstick headed home

she skims the early sea tides foam,

dark silhouette against the clouds

the story book witch in her long black shroud.