Crone’s Roost

Crone’s Roost

Dismal the sky over hazy, gray wisped clouds obscure,

Moons radiance, hand held to forehead, sweet eves cool upon brow

Smoking plumes rise cool, lethargic dissipation from hand hewn stone

Stately cobbles, moisture adorned, grimy with upswept soot, chimneys discharge

Gathering skirts of rough spun wool, maiden makes haste through lengthening shade

Night given way to torchlight’s stingy circular influence

Raised round carefully numbered lanes, nights witnesses

In dark corners rats skitter, foul fecal festooned waters wind past emptied chamber pots

Only in darkness can she be called clean,

Winds ushering a reprieve, trace amounts of ash inhaled as she runs

Distance driven by bounds, steps ushered to Hamlet’s end

Alit, cottage quaint and cozy, wildflowers barely perceived by flame

Through oak bound door wrapped in cord, below thatched roofs eaves

Drying herbs, river rock hearth, concoctions, tinctures, a healer’s ease

The Old Mother rocks gingerly upon ancient golden wooded throne

Eyes wrinkled with age, motioning she speaks with brittle breath in whispers

“Sit my Child while time yet remains,” She slumps back

Taking seat slowly cross’ widowed crones roost, observing

Hair a mess of tangled straw, white mixed with yellowed unwashed age

Within wrinkles pronounced over pristine azure orbs,

A twinkle, a playful smirk contained in husks hallowed hollow

“Do you have it Mother?” Daughter asks as seat taken, haste and tone merging

From folds of burlap brown robes, bound twined, scriptured word

Gnostic in context, apocryphal in form, aged hands bestow

Slender, pristine skin trembles as gathered tome weighs

Words, wisdom, concepts, truth revealed it conveys

Rising with haste she departs, wary of inquisitor’s hounds encroaching

Baying, barking, the noose tightened as voices raised shout

Wending her way past familiar ferns, swiftly becoming lost in alleys dank and dark

In and out, one to ten, streets become a blur and the wood swiftly yawns

The first of a series of Epic poems intertwined with history. This is part 1. This is something new to me, so bear with me my friends.