Witch's House

Deep in suburbs labyrinthia

She lives on a corner lot

Tangled in weeds laureline

Behind an askew fence

It works for a witch’s house

It works for a witch’s house

Yellow cactus flower cuculine

I thought winter froze to death

Comes springing back miraculously      

Behind her rusty Honda civic

It works for a witch’s house

It works for a witch’s house

Her sidewalk’s graveyard for branches

Grasses humificate her eaves

Piles of pots terra cotta

House her every forlorn seed

It works for a witch’s house

It works for a witch’s house

Purple morning bud ruellia

Expel fetid clapboards to the ground

I know they say, “she should fix it up”,

But how could that charm be fouled?

It works for a witch’s house

It works for a witch’s house

Wiry-white-haired harpyia, in a tank, blue shorts and some crocs

Flings open her ramshackle back door

Cries, “Puss! Puss! Puss!” into the rain

For the fugitive black and white

It works for a witch’s house

It works for a witch’s house

I think I saw him yesterday

Prowling my tranquil backyard

He’d captured cutesy mouse, to my surprise

And crushed him in his mouth!

It works for a witch’s house

It works for a witch’s house