She clothed in the moss cottage,
Sloped yawing drunken
Old beetle chewed wood
And snail stained stones.
Sneaks a dark watered creature
Slumbering upon the muddy grass.
A beached whale of a lodge
Gasping out of history and loveliness,
Would it disassemble immediately?
Impression that it would
Like to be candidly flapped back into the waters.
But no - instead left to sludge
Begrudge and groan the pebble shore dusk.
I saw her for the first time
Early one evening, when the air is chill,
Tight about quill nostrils.
She ambled like mere smoke
This I told the priest;
"Followed by a cat, she tree quiet,
Casting cauldron spells of grime and gruel,
Of an English grove in the gnome nights.
I gazed in abnormal earnestness
Catch glimpses of this esoteric dweller,
I saw her these ways.
Brief glimpses of smoulder hair
Wonder and olive eyed fumes.
Deep burgundy wood gatherings.
With calm sentinel cat always
At foot - a mystical witch?
A cool slathered fish to know
Chimney froth pale blue smoke;
That swells in lazy ringlets
About the waters if the wind was right.
