Witching Hour

Witching Hour
 

When in the middle of the night I woke
-roused by the rays of the full moon-
I heard a whispering voice that spoke
“Get out of bed for I will meet you soon.
Under the hazel tree
look out for me!“
I listened breathless - pinned into my pillow -
but only heard the rustling leaves of the old willow.
After a while of fear
“Don’t be afraid“,
it said
“I am still here
and wait.”
 
I wrapped a blanket round me tight
and left the house under the magic spell,
passing the lawn, the yard, the well
to search - for whom? - for what? - at night
under the hazel tree
where it would wait for me.
“Here I am“, came the voice
out from the grass. I had no choice
than to bend down and stare.
In brilliant glare
a crown was lying in the mud,
on its top a rose’s bud.
“It’s yours when you
my bidding do“
the tiny voice was muttering.
“What deed
you need?”
I had the strength for uttering.
 
“Fetch me the moon out of her orbit.
I need her brightness for the quarters of my dead
to get illuminated their dark pit.“
“I can’t“, I answered sad.
“It is too great a task
for mortal men.
You have to ask
an angel then.“
 
I heard a sobbing near my feet.
The crown ceased glowing. It got dark.
The moon went down. – Soon sang a lark
the rising dawn to greet.
 
© I. Beddies

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