blossoms as the night, musty with flannel
and the cocoon of winter struggles
against the layers, unravels and tightens
around the compass that can't find the way
to making sense of the ocean of tasks
that come washing in each day.
Citrus and verdant light
might protect us from the scurvy
or old woman's gout; age defies our wishes
with the promise of pain
and evasive sleep.
Modern witches slather salves, inhale lineaments
and essential oils, administer needles,
prepared tinctures,
and sling capsules full of healing
as defenses against darkness
of the heart and wandering mind.
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