The day began when the sun soon arose
But of course in New England that’s a hoax
Because all of our days do begin, yes,
But often the sun’s hidden, I confess. Continue reading
Poetry
On the 31st
Dark is night, night is just right
As I set my broom aside
with a thought so candle bright
My glowing eyes I can’t hide.
On the date of this fall month
I’m allowed to be my self
even eating my best lunch –
can of worm warts on the shelf.
But maybe I’ll surprise them
My witch cousins and witch friend
I’ll knock on doors because I can
Pretend to be a small human. Continue reading
roughwighting 