penny in a castle

A digital chapbook.

Witch Tree

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In my front yard, a witch tree grows.
You might mistake her for any other tree,
On this quiet street.
But I know her better.

I live with the witch tree.
I can see her snaggly, snaky green hair.
Her crinkled roots digging into the deep, dark earth.
Rough, deep lined skin.
She has one rounded blind eye to gaze at passersby.
And a gaping wound of a hole for a mouth
To gobble them up if they get too close.

Only black squirrels twist and turn, living among the leaves.
Only black crows caw on her branches.
Only black dogs nose her trunk.
Only black cats creep and climb her limbs.

In winter, her bare limbs crack
And rub together to stay warm.
In the autumn, the winds sweep her branches high
Howling through the storms.
In the spring invisible green gossamer flowers appear
Release a too-sweet perfume
To daze those standing under it somnambulant.
In summer, she moves ever so slightly
Even on the stillest of days.

She has lived a long time, the witch tree.
Her hewn face tells that tale.
She has seen many children come to her yard.
Some disappear mysteriously
If they play too near.
Each night she stretches her roots
And edges just ever so slightly
Closer to the street
So she can catch a few more.

I would cut her down if I could.
Letting the axe fall again and again
To mortally wound her,
But I too am be spelled
And bewitched
By the witch tree.

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Written by pennyinacastle

July 21, 2014 at 2:01 am

Posted in Poems

Tagged with , , ,

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