Witches Dance. Shroom March

Branches veil the sky in black, no light, no star,
Roots lift soil, the earth holds tight, the night’s not far.
Swampy breath spreads through the glade — hush now, lie low,
What came knocking, uninvited, found nowhere to go.

Weeps the tree, its branches bend, its sap runs slow,
Who stands here, uncalled, unseen — caught down below.
No more sun nor sky to see, the dark’s unbound,
Only hands, black hands that twist, where witches dance around.


Moans and whispers, shadows weave, their circle wide,
Uninvited guests are caught, no place to hide.
Where you entered, how you came, no bounds, no line,
Blackened faces, blurred and shifting, round they twine —
Laughing, chanting in time.
[females chanting over]

Black are the shades, the servants guard my door,
Black are the witches, braiding ancient lore.
They will pull you down to sleep, to the roots’ cold keep,
Steal your final breath away, in the earth you’ll sleep.