Witch in Winter
       

Come, let the ice file in. Come,
              let the spindly roosters

scratch their homes in me.
              I am always watching.

The shadow of the house—
              it watches, too. Its eaves

are sloping, caring; wooden
              and wise it lowers

its windows, shades drawing
              the light down

to a close. Now, I will have
              to be good. I spell out

a message with berries; I leave
              you some cursive

in thorns. Without the light,
              it is something I have

to believe—that the snow is
              adding to me,

that the animals do not climb
              all over, their feet

lifting up these words.

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Copyright © 2021 Annah Browning All rights reserved
from Witch Doctrine
University of Akron Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission