I live in baba yagas house

My life presses up against the windows

Threatening to explode into a thousand bits & pieces

It’s like trying to make a call on Christmas morning

Bustling with spells cast with open heart

The truth in wisdom laying down gently is misinformed

Wisdom is furious battles with important happenings

Struggles rectified with triumphant beheadings

I live in Baba Yaggas house poised on her spoon

Forged by the oven’s high heat, taunting foolishness closer

Watching the White, the Red, and the Black

Racing by the windows covered in cobwebs

Resplendent in the tatters of Chronos’ robes

With a sharp sin of her house that dances on chicken legs

I am granted temporary reprieve into the sky clad night

I cast as she taught me and my house is hers

My hearth gives purpose, ruminations of grounds gained

Immersions into dark wisdom refreshingly blessed

Yes, I live in Baba Yaga’s house.