The Witches (for older children) by Fausto Avendaño

In the dark forest under the haze
absent the moon’s silvery rays,
when the night is black and still
the witches hold a blackbird’s quill.

They, merrily, jot down names
of naughty children
to beat them with disdain.
Their greenish eyes are frightful,
their ghostly hair quite dreadful.

They boil the bones of forest owls,
of hairy rats and ugly fowl,
in a large caldron as they cackle,
“Abracadabra, dung of a zebra,”
as Apollo rises from the shadows.

They cast their spells with horrid chants.
rousing frogs, toads and bats,
They aim to turn errant children,
into legions of moles and rats.

On guard, child, the witches prowl
and cast the spells I’d hate to see,
and in the morning, as you shower,
if you’re not careful, a toad you’ll be.

Fausto Avendaño is a writer and an emeritus professor from Sacramento, California.  He has published short stories and poetry in American and foreign journals, novels and a play.  Fausto has won two literary prizes in the United States and abroad.  Some of his books are featured on the Internet.