And she says to me in a low rumble

“All my living I have been an old woman

In the woods alone

I do what I like:

I muddy & sweep my hut

Carry myself into the sky&

Listen to what it says,

I gather mushrooms

Terrorize foxes & men

With my friendly claws &gait,

Laugh a long time into a bucket

Until it laughs back with spit

Breathe as a stone at the bottom of a creek-&

Many other things I do not say.

But none of it is done from fearing.

Poke at the fear as into the dying fire in yr hearth:

Which way do the sparks go,

How does the fire hiss?

If you choose my life- know you are choosing it,

Not hiding in the woods.”

““““““““““““““““

From Ask Baba Yaga by Taisia Kitaiskaia