Witchy Magic Circle by Marina Zrnic

Old Couple Cutting off Corn They live in a little whitewashed house In the valley where they were born; And autumn finds this couple in the corn fields, Cutting off corn. The old man's mouth is tobacco-stained And wrinkled by ribald fun. His trousers are the color of forget-me-nots Bleached by the sun. The old woman's cheeks are like dried peaches; Her birdlike eyes are gay. She wears black stocking-legs on her arms And her skirt is sky-gray. Whack!. . .Whack!. . .down the ripening rows Of green stalks streaked with gold; And the knives they wield have been ground on a grindstone, A century old. Whack!. . .Whack!. . .the tall stalks topple In the raw faintly purple air; And a half of the crisp sweet-smelling fodder Is their laborer's share. These two own the little whitewashed house And an acre of stony ground. They keep a few hens, a pig and a cow, And work around. “Folks hate to live off of the government In the valley where we were born.” So autumn finds this couple in t...

1 I celebrate myself, and sing myself, And what I assume you shall assume, For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you. I loafe and invite my soul, I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass. My tongue, every atom of my blood, form’d from this soil, this air, Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their parents the same, I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin, Hoping to cease not till death. Creeds and schools in abeyance, Retiring back a while sufficed at what they are, but never forgotten, I harbor for good or bad, I permit to speak at every hazard, Nature without check with original energy. 2 Houses and rooms are full of perfumes, the shelves are crowded with perfumes, I breathe the fragrance myself and know it and like it, The distillation would intoxicate me also, but I shall not let it. The atmosphere is not a perfume, it has no taste of the distillation, it is odorless, It is for my mouth forever, I am in love with ...