Witch stirring Cauldron
Little War Witches
By Linda A. Copp

Little War Witches,
Soldiers and Dust
Midnight tomorrows,
and egg shells to bust -

Hand woven sweaters,
scarves and scarred hands,
Wet sweaty palms
and strange foreign lands.

All of the faces,
so vague, far, away.
Haven't seen a smile,
 since last Christmas Day.

Flying Witch
Little War Witches
wings on the stir.
Cloudbursts of Thunder
Oh! Lord swallow her.

The raindrops, are falling.
The guns are all set.
Just one more jungle,
one more battle and yet-

The witches are flying
higher than high,
And swooping down upon us
from out of the sky.

I'm sure and their sure,
No! I'm not, No, I'm not,
And It's here and It's bleeding -
And Lord,
My God,
I've been shot!

By Linda A. Copp

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