The full moon hangs high
In this cold clear sky
illuminating the earth below
With its magical silvery glow
Three witches dressed in black
With a cackle as their soundtrack
Soaring through the sky
Faster and faster they did fly
On their enchanted broomsticks
Each one carrying a bag of tricks
The oldest witch, a wizened crone
With white hair the color of moonstone
Her beady eyes gleaming in the moonlight
As she swoops and dives leaving all in fright
Casting spells on the earth below
watching as her magic did flow
The second witch from middle age stock
With a wild mane of red flowing lock
Her cackle echoed through the night air
Quite a formidable pair
As she balanced a large cauldron
Stirring in all the contents until the job was done
The youngest witch a young woman with black hair
had pale freckled skin whose cackle she did share
She grinned mischievously
Her eyes glittered solicitously
Flying through the night sky
casting potions in the wink of her eye
As the dawn broke over the horizon
The witches realized they didn’t mean to frighten
So they pooled their magic together
Unleashing something powerful and clever
A spell that transformed them into a flock of ravens
With a loud caw they took to the heavens
leaving a trail of swirling smoke
Calling to the mind to evoke
Keep your doors tightly shut and lock
The witches will be back just listen for the knock.