Old Crow came,
And he laughed and laughed.
Up on one leg
He danced and danced
He grinned at me, and took out my eye
Shrieking and whooping with cackles and cries
He brought me the moon
To stick in its place;
A bane or a boon
I can’t quite place.
But laughing and dancing, Old Crow comes,
And maybe one day he will bring me the sun.
Copyright 2016 of Nightshade author of The Purple Broom.