Blazing Withcery

A disarray of fire and wind.

She directs the end like water,

Moulding to her cup.

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

Lonely, perhaps, but hiding the uncaring

Expression that is in her nature—simple.

Great being: I’m terrified, hysterical, I’m in awe.

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

I’ve climbed these now-burning trees

So often, with my backpack full of wonder,

With all the good intentions toward nature

And what I believed to be our nature.

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

But the natural world—well,

It is a god. Impenetrable and osmotic.

I clearly have a lot to learn, and would I learn

If spared from this tragedy?

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

Crazy summer—she twists the weather.

And so she was a witch, though

I knew that all along.