Baba Yaga Visits

Why is Baba Yaga knocking at my door?

My house is in the city, not deep in the forests floor.

Why carry she that basket?

Is it to gather up my eggs?

And carry them back to her hasty nest that stands on chicken’s legs?

What voice she uses that crackles with age?

Surely she does not think me a sage

If I sit quiet while stirring my stew,

Perhaps my company no more she’ll pursue.

But the smell of her pipe and the creak of my chair,

Tells me she’s settled for a long time right here.

But why has Baba Yaga come when I’m alone?

“If you’d answer your door,dear,” she grated, “I’ve come t’take ya home.”

This entry was posted in Human.

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