shift

it is close at hand
a shift in the
winds of my soul

one step
two steps
the skin prickles rise

my path winds
i walk
on the back of a snake
it rises and 
I am the toad caught
in the distended jaws of fate
I am the 3 sisters
that weave and trim the threads
that lay and polish
the scales
on the back of
undulating time

the toad struggles
old programmes firing
no real hope of surviving
and in the eating
the snake is made
vulnerable

the assassin gives way
for the midwife