The Witch

I saw the witch out in the woods
As we sang around the fire
Stooped and white, curled and dry
A bone enrobed in briar

No one else had seen her there
No one saw her face
Which stared at me, fixedly
Grim and unafraid

I left them all to sing their songs
By the fire’s dying glow
The woods and field enclosing camp
Like hands around a throat

Back at home I lay awake
Safe behind my door
Listening for her muted steps
In the shadowed yard below

And though the time has passed
I still see her in those trees
The world is now those darkened woods
The days her eyes on me

I was so young, had barely lived
But I recognized the fear
Was what lay waiting, out of view
In all our older years