AN A.M. DAY

By Michael Charles Auty

in the blue grey, silver sleeting day

walls of solid water make white the lawn,

the way of hail, no longer liquid;

thinking how the man that thought

to burn his wife alive

would put the jerry can

in the bonnet

and, with a belated wave

to the butcher,

leave as surreptitiously.

driving home, September cold,

sou’wester drove the day away,

fire-smoke hangs between

the shadows of the wind

like a snow-full day.

amid the smoke smitten witch is tied,

taut, graceful to the timber’s burning

great day for a fire.

driving home, his subconscious thought,

past life torching witches…

#darkpoetsclub