No grass stood in the parkland wilds
no snow lay on the ground
but other sorts of coiled elliptical matter
leaped from the fire.
This place it steals inside to wit
blights the chest snuffs the throat
our path recalls milk and witchery
bruised apples strewn all around
far and wide.
Blinkered prone beneath the white stone
no water ran but light escaped
and the mouths of credulous sisters
filled and raged at its downward force.