~Cottonwood Crones~

Winter strips the cottonwood,

leaving a  black skeleton

cracked and twisted, exposing

the witches roost, that dread fist

of gnarled fingers groping about

for unwary revelers and passersby.

Even at high noon, the eerie perch

conjures up a full moon, a coven

crouching in the branches.

Winter sheds the foliage, but never

the witches, cackling in the wind,

glowering in the hoarfrost.

Winter brings a dormant silence

but even her icy sleep is stirred

by cantankerous crones.

Winter aches for the youthful laughter

of the mountain stream, for a respite

from the cold crackle in the branches.

Even its sleet and rime tremble

for a breath of leavening spirits,

for nestlings and buds and leaves,

for a modest veil of green, if only

to hide the witches roost.

~Crone~

Jefferson Airplane - White Rabbit (Woodstock 1969)

One pill makes you larger
And one pill makes you small,

And the ones that mother gives you
Don't do anything at all.
Go ask Alice
When she's ten feet tall.
And if you go chasing rabbits

And you know you're going to fall,
Tell 'em a hookah smoking caterpillar
Has given you the call.

Call Alice
When she was just small.
When the men on the chessboard
Get up and tell you where to go
And you've just had some kind of mushroom
And your mind is moving low.

Go ask Alice
I think she'll know.
When logic and proportion
Have fallen sloppy dead,
And the White Knight is talking backwards
And the Red Queen's "off with her head!"

Remember what the dormouse said:
"Feed your head. Feed your head. Feed your head"

Saga Of My Tears