A Witch's Death

By Sue Mackrell, 2007

A Witch's Death
In the liminal threshold between
Dark and morning,
Black cat,
Curled like an ammonite
Basks in the weak warmth of early sun,
Stretches, and slides Between gravestones,
Lithe, listening,
Hearing sibillance of
A death sigh
Hanging in the wind,
Exquisite whispers
Vibrating  nerve endings,
And electric senses
Shocked into action
He tenses muscular haunches,
And leaps, body taut,
Skin stretched to splitting,
And with a back kick that could kill
He becomes

Hare
Reaching skywards,
Amber eyes out-staring
A waning moon,
Wind rushing, ears flattened,
Soaring, elongated with
Whip strong tendons,
Air pulsates
To a scream,
His coat stiffens,
Hackles rise
And as a spasm Pushes out pinion feathers He becomes

Owl
Fringed wings spread In silent flight,
Moon faced, ethereal,
Swooping low
Through thin dawn light,
Transcendent spirit
Settling on a gnarled branch
Of a blackened yew,
Claws gripped,
Prehensile, as he
Croons a moaning eulogy
To a dead mistress.