Just Beneath the Words

Day 4 Prompt: Begin with Just Beneath________

Just beneath the words
which you have placed with such care
into the bowl on the table
there is an empty room
with walls of blue
and a folding chair.

Just there, outside the window
is a tree with three small leaves
which quiver in the winter wind.

Just above the tree a crow is flying.
You have been speaking its name
into the wooden bowl.
Its name is not Despair.

Just inside the sun-whitened skull of the crow
in the leaves on the hillside
squats a tiny brown toad.
It listens for the sound
of your name in the wind.

Beginning with Poem-A Day

November Poem-a-Day Challenge.
Day 1 Prompt: Write something about matches. 
Oh my.  Here goes:

Then there was the one about the witch
who walked into a bar
in search of a match.

I don’t recall the punchline, though
I know she’d lost her broom,
and snow was in her hair.

Perhaps she’d lost her wand as well,
forgotten the Latin words
for ignite, combust, enkindle.

I heard she called a taxi
before she wandered out into the wind,
leaving behind her the scent of sulfur and jasmine.