The Novice

I am a young witch,
new to the arts,
but already skilled in spells and alchemy.
It is waning summer
and time to gather potion plenty.

Staff in hand,
I meander rutted paths
and gather

the feather of a bird
the dust from a coyote track
the blood of an aloe

and return to my cauldron
to mix, measure,
and murmur the wind
until I am called back
by my mother's exasperated voice.

She sees mud pies and mess.
But, in the long shadows,
I am making magic.