The white witch whistles by on her broomstick
a fragrance of flying ointment fills the air
and fuels her ascent to the world of coincidence
where anything ethereal is possible.
The moon shines brightly lighting the astral
where thought forms willow and wallow
in hazy half revealed wisps of wonder
wandering in and out of imagination.
Day as long as night at Autumn equinox
what might this reveal in Pandora’s box?
Secrets locked out of reach of matter
or a thanksgiving spell for the right of Mabon.
Chill fills the air as autumn approaches
ripe fruit on tree of life branches
whilst inner life lives deliver their secrets
to those with psychic second sight.
For Tony Maude’s Nonsense Poems at dVerse
Image from fine art America