The Witch Poem by Marilyn Shepperson

The sun has seemed to set early, this spring night
And alone in my cottage, there is much
That visitors do not see
The black cat that now stretches and yawns
Was merely a hearthside rug
The jars and boxes that line the shelf
Appear to hold just herbs, not spell ingredients
The blanket box at the foot of the bed
Hides a robe and hat
The broom that will transport me tonight
I do sometimes use to sweep the floor
The owl that hoots softly, was a feather duster
Whilst my toad, was a mug on the dresser
And the two rats were candlesticks
So, dressed at last, I turn widdershins thrice
In the pale moon's beam, through the window pane
Beltane it is and I'm away, to do my Master's bidding