Russell Harden

By Moonshine Full

Under the oak tree, by moonlights gleam,
Mixing potions for him to dream.
Henbane his mind to turn insane,
Nightshade to burn his heart aflame.

Poppets of cloth, entwined with hair,
Thrown to fire, her spell to share.
The cackle of laughter the sound I hear,
Through gown of night, and smell of fear.

The wooded path, I dare to tread,
Her eyes to meet, is thought to dread.
Smell of poison across waft of smoke,
Breath of cauldron from which I choke.

Shadowed figure, now standing tall,
To worship Cernunnos by moonshine full.
To bend ...