Witches Brew, a spirited sort of tea
bit of bark from fallen branch of willow tree
piece of orange peel from breakfast this morn
handful of berries from a sprig of Hawthorn
dregs of chai from the bottom of my cup
cap of a mushroom from last nite's sup
a few rose hips from the bush by the shop door
a spoonful of sugar, no less no more
toss in a pinch of coffee grounds
plus whatever bit of edible wills to be found
bubbling merrily at back o' the woodstove
a magical potion with a life of its own