Era of the Witch
Posted December 30 2011
Fiddlers fiddled in the field beneath a waning moon.
Incantations were spelled out for chickens laying soon.
By night, the farmer and his wife, red cheeks and breasts a-bare
Danced by roaring firelight without a conscious care.
By day, their secret's kept within their life upon the farm.
Witches unknown by all the villagers for all their country charm.
Bloody heat of the summer sun unbalanced in its blaze.
Spontaneous combustion plagues all those who dare its heated haze.
Perhaps tonight we'll dance again beneath the waning moon;
And bind a spell to reduce the sun so chance be raining soon.