Witch - Haiku

her incantation
beckons the black winged one
she flies with raven

doubtful with her craft
the mystical orb pulsates
answers sought are nil

plaits of golden hair
severed from eons of growth
wick for her cold hearth

stone faces on the wall
guardians of her threshold
past lovers keep watch

mourning memories
cobwebs become bridal veil
lovers’ desertion

on the crescent moon
black cloak hangs while she soars
a night of spells cast

beguiled bewitching
to her clan she reigns supreme
just an average day

darkness wages war
in her soul of curtains drawn
light will shine once more

green eyed enchantress
juggles orbs in full moonlight
beacons to her love

artemesia
spiderwort and toad lilies
conjurers garden

gnarled fingers spin pages
seeking forgotten knowledge
ancient time renews

the twisted maple
yearns for snowy owls return
her wings will renew

stencilled pentagram
black upon red floor in home
hubby not impressed


For more witchey poo Haiku, hop on your broom and fly to Haiku Heights.

I Have Pond Envy

Tis true I do, after visiting Rideau Ramble Woodland Gardens and Nursery a few weekends ago.  I could build this, in fact have often thought of creating a series of canals in the garden.  However the trees come first so I won’t be digging anytime soon.

The one thing missing is a row boat, butter crème in colour.  Similar to the one my sister and I rowed along the shores of Rideau Lake, those many summers ago. 

 

And this vista at the end is where I would sit, legs stretched out, grinning from ear to ear.  Ahhh yes, I still have my dream.    

A Rainy Autumn Night

Once I needed music
for companionship
on nights such as this,
but now I relish
solitude
while I putter about
keeping no time but my own
toddling off to bed
with a well worn book
as my only solace.

This chilly Autumn night
I lay in darkness,
listening to comforting
rain steadily falling,
rivulets
flowing through
the eaves troughs,
a hidden babbling brook
slowing winding its way
amid a leaf sodden canal.

Cold rain trickles
its way along
treads in the asphalt
shimmering
in the glow
of yellow street lights
appearing to the eye
a harvest moon arising,
but there is no moon
only an empty black sky.